


Caged

by kittypox



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Angst, Aoba is here too and he's a jerk, Beast Mode Sex, Bottom Noiz, Complete, Dubious Consent, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, M/M, Noiz makes questionable life choices, Possession, Voyeurism, beastjaku, he's snarling and drooling but still hot as hell, locked in a cage with you, watersports it happened, willing captivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locked together in a cage had severely changed their relationship. And not in a good way. If he had to chose though, Noiz preferred the intense, intimate, sometimes violent attentions of his beastly cellmate to the the torture  of his once-friend, Aoba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beast Koujaku destroyed me. Like he had me crying one night as I thought about this horrid world I'm creating here. And I didn't even play the game. Erm, so pardon any OOC-ness. And any feels that might arise. 
> 
> Story to be told in a serious of short ficlets
> 
> Cross posted to my tumblr of the same name. It's still me! Story slightly edited. Except I can't figure out italics in this formatting...

He really didn't like Koujaku. Not as a man, as a (unwanted) team mate, but especially not as a monster. A part of him, the critical, caustic, bitter part of him whispered that this monster was no different from the old Koujaku, just a little more growly and droolier, but that lie didn't hold much weight in his head for long. He frowned, leaning closer to the bars and pressing his forehead against them, peering into the cage. 

As of yet, he was unnoticed. The man-beast huddled in the corner, head bowed between bent legs, a curtain of scarlet hair protecting him from sight. It must be uncomfortable, Noiz thought. Not that he would actually know, but he had experimented enough, watched people enough to know that there were certain ways bodies couldn't bend or if they could, they were not meant to hold in positions for very long. There was no doubt Koujaku must have been in at least moderate pain, hands shackled behind his back in cuffs so tightly secured they broke skin, and a heavy collar around his neck, chaining him to the wall at his back. 

He was caught off guard by the sharp pang of pity he felt for the man. It wasn't like they were friends. With all they had gone through though, they had some sort of relationship that he could not deny. Tolerable acquaintances perhaps. It didn't matter that now and again they had looked at each other and shared a smile or that sometimes their hands would slide over one another--accidentally of course--when they were forced next to each other. The passionate, hateful sex they occasionally came together for still defied explanation in his mind. But that didn't matter. They weren't friends, but there was some bond between them and he didn't like what he saw, what had happened. Maybe he was human after all, Noiz mused to himself, wishing he could feel amused at his own joke. He didn't like seeing Koujaku chained to the wall like an animal. There was no respect in it, no respect for the powerful, steadfast warrior that he had begrudgingly come to respect--but only in his most fleeting of thoughts. 

A sharp, hitched inhale followed by a deep growl warned him that he had been spotted and Noiz suddenly found himself staring into the eyes of some creature he couldn't fathom. What the hell had happened to the man's eyes? He used to secretly marvel at the strange, exotic shade of the man's eyes, but the alluring red was gone, replaced with amber, serpentine eyes outlined by--was that blood? Were Koujaku's eyes all bloodshot? At such a distance, he couldn't tell. 

The eye contact was not taken well. Koujaku must have seen it as a challenge; the man-monster started twisting in his binds, pulling angrily at the lead of chain anchoring him to the wall. Noiz unconsciously took a step back from the bars when he was roared at. He had never heard such a sound come from a human before. It was low, guttural, animalistic. He shuddered at the way it vibrated through the cell and in his ears.

He watched for another minute as Koujaku twisted and bent, howling as he attempted to free himself. At first, the man had been concentrated on him, eagerly wishing for the chance to break free and rush over and rip his guts out, Noiz suspected, but the set of the man-monster's face had changed. Koujaku's brows were drawn, forehead creased. His growls hitched to a higher pitch. The slightest of quivers escaped the man now and again and it disturbed Noiz to realize that what he heard were whimpers. If Koujaku had been out for blood before, it seemed the desire had faded. He wanted freedom. 

This isn't right.

Even if he was dangerous, even if Koujaku was mad, out of his mind, whatever it was that had happened, he didn't deserve that. Noiz carefully inspected the cell lock. It would take some time and effort, but he thought he could manage it. Glancing up, he saw that Koujaku had ceased his campaign against his shackles. Even with his mind gone, the man had to know that he could not escape. His features had crumbled in, appearing almost mournful. 

He really was human after all, Noiz thought distractedly as he worked at the lock. He was moved by a blood thirsty monster's wish for freedom because he had once known said monster when he wasn't a raging beast. Sounded stupid to him, but that didn't stop him from catching the lock latch and swinging the cell door open. 

They were eye to eye again. Danger had crept back onto Koujaku's face; his lips pulled back into a menacing snarl. He had to approach cautiously, Noiz told himself, lest he made one wrong step and got his leg chewed off. He eased his hands up and opened his palms, wondering if the man crouched before him even recognized it as a sign of peace. The growling eventually stopped.

He pausd just out of reach. He couldn't trust sane Koujaku; a mad one with fangs and claws was not to be played with. Carefully, without any unnecessary movements, Noiz sat down on his knees and simply shared a long gaze with Koujaku. He was frankly amazed he was being tolerated this well. Putting aside the fact that normally his mere presence was enough to throw Koujaku into spitting fits, he had encroached on an animal's personal space, had challenged him with a bold gaze, and was taunting him with the prospect of freedom. 

Koujaku's mouth twitched and his tongue snuck out to lick his raw lips. A soft, low growl escaped him now and then as Noiz stared at him, but aside from that he was oddly calm. 

He was flattering himself that the man remembered him, but Noiz decided to take the risk. He scooted an inch closer, putting himself in the danger zone. He should not have been surprised when teeth sank into his shoulder a second later and he was physically dragged forward by the sheer force of Koujaku's jaw. Any moment, he expected to feel his belly torn open and his insides chewed apart or his throat bit open and vocal chords viciously severed. It would be a beautiful pain he was certain, but it never came. He sat as still as possible, waiting, but all he felt was the pressure and, yes, even a few pricks of pain from how deeply Koujaku's teeth were sunk into his shoulder. 

"What are you waiting for, old man?" He whispered, voice shaking. "Haven't you been waiting to kill me?"

His entire body thrummed as Koujaku growled around his skin. A response? No, not possible; just a reaction to his voice. 

Koujaku's jaw slackened eventually and Noiz took the opportunity to tear free and push himself far enough away to be out of reach once more. Funny how that little voice inside of him that had always urged him on to do himself harm in order to feel pain was suddenly silent. 

Blood was dripping down his neck, Noiz noted as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over himself to the cell door. He couldn't recall what exactly he had been thinking, walking in there as if he was impervious to the danger. He pushed out of the cell and slammed the door and wouldn't have looked back if he hadn't heard it; a low, mournful, beseeching whimper that had an odd 'nnnn' ring to it. It was enough to get him to glance over his shoulder.

Koujaku was watching him, brows brown again, tugging furtively at his bonds. 

That was why he had gone in. Because he was human. And there was still something human in Koujaku. 

"Okay." He grumbled to himself after several very long moments of debate. He turned back to the cell. It took more power of will than he knew he possessed to reenter and shut the door on himself. His heartbeat started to pound in his head as he gathered the courage to step towards Koujaku and sink down in front of him, still maintaining safe distance. "Okay. I'll stay."

He wasn't certain with what type of look he was being regarded. Surprise? Disappointment? Joy? He couldn't free Koujaku, Noiz knew that much after their brief encounter. The first person the man saw would end up a chew toy or dead or both, but he couldn't leave him alone to suffer either--even if he had once actively wished for it. 

Koujaku looked at him for a short second before he shifted, leaning down in what looked to be an uncomfortable position, and pressed his forehead to the ground. He couldn't make any sense of the strange scratching, pitched sounds coming from the man, but Noiz had a sinking, crushing feeling that he was hearing the wails of a monster desperate for freedom and companionship.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. Much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Non-con, beastsex
> 
> I have no explanation for myself other than this ship has consumed me.

If he had puzzled over the complicated, twisting status of their relationship before, Noiz was at a loss to describe how his muddled mind tumbled over and over itself as he put all of his waking effort into deciphering exactly how he and Koujaku regarded each other then. The power struggle was gone; there was no question that Koujaku was the dominant one, holding all the cards when it came to brute strength and force. Which was why he spent most of his days pushed against the wall, out of arms reach of the snarling, snapping monster. 

What stupidity had clutched at his brain to make him think it was a good idea to stay there, Noiz wondered for the thousandth time. He had to have been dizzy from blood loss. He was no knight in shining armor, he wasn’t even remotely nice. So why had he been moved by some noble notion that Koujaku needed him to stay? There was no use worrying over it then, he supposed, drawing his knees to his chest. He was there and he wasn’t going to leave. It hadn’t take long for his presence to be noticed and when it was Aoba had appeared (or what was left of Aoba), snow white skin practically glowing in his equally white robes. Aoba had smiled, almost pleasantly, and said that if he wanted to stay, he could. It hadn’t occurred to Noiz until later—too late—that that had been an offer, his last chance to get the hell out and leave Koujaku to fend for himself. 

Too little, too late. He finally understood that saying. Too little thought and he ended up there and too late he realized what an idiot he had been. His gaze swung toward the other corner of the cell where Koujaku was---he didn’t even know what the man was doing. Sleeping? Crouching in an awkward position to gain a better vantage of the pitiful dimensions of the cell? 

He should have learned by then, five days in, not to stare. The man’s eyes cracked open slightly and caught his gaze. Half a second later, the beast was pulling at the short lead of his chain, snapping and growling at him. Koujaku’s mind seemed fluid, constantly fluctuating in and out of a state where he recognized Noiz and where he thought him an intruder. He was an intruder that moment and the violent reaction to his presence made Noiz shift uncomfortably and scoot further out of reach. He didn’t understand how the man’s mind worked. One night he was practically sitting in Koujaku’s lap, allowing the man to gnaw on his arm while he pondered his choice of action and then the next day they were sitting on opposite sides of the cell as Koujaku desperately tugged at his chains, trying to get his hands on him. 

“Come on,” he whispered, putting his head in his folded arms, “this is getting old.”

He spent the rest of the evening huddled where he was and didn’t even dare to fetch his dinner tray which had been, he thought purposely, shoved next to Koujaku. Falling into repose was a mistake though. When dealing with a monster, he had to use caution, but he fell asleep inches away from his cellmate. Retrospect told him that he must have rolled in his sleep, turning onto his side and incidentally slipping closer to Koujaku. Close enough that the man cold strain against his chain, grab him by the ankle, and drag him into the corner. It was the movement that had woken Noiz; being dragged, face across the concrete floor, hadn’t even registered to him. 

“What are you—” he twisted, panicking, afraid and yet knowing that he would find out what type of mind set Koujaku was currently in. 

Nails dug into his flesh and he saw pinpricks of blood where skin had broken. Was that why Aoba had rearranged Koujaku’s cuffs? To better grab and dismember him? He had watched as the white haired boy calmly moved Koujaku’s hands from behind his back and secured them in front of him. It was a miracle that Koujaku didn’t throttle him while his arms were free, but the limbs had hung limply at the man’s sides while the shift was happening. Perhaps after so long behind his back, the change of position had left the beast’s arms listless from lack of blood flow. 

“He’ll want to feel you.” Aoba had said cryptically, smiling pleasantly as he left the cell, as if that explained it all. 

He hadn’t asked just what the hell Aoba had meant. He hadn’t wanted to deign to talk to that twisted version of his friend.

Dumb ass, Noiz chided himself, scrambling to gain purchase on the ground and pull himself away. Just allowing Koujaku’s arms in front of him made the man all the more dangerous. He should have watched himself closer. As was, all his panicked flailing did was make Koujaku sink his nails in deeper and tug harder at his ankle. 

With a final yank, he was dragged into the circle of the beast’s reach and that was where Noiz gave up his struggles. He was there. Whatever Koujaku wanted to do, he would do. All the guttural growling and hissing gave him enough indication as to what frame of mind the man was in and he lay still, waiting. Some time ago he had heard someone say that when you were face to face with a wild animal and had no chance of winning, you had to play dead. That was your only hope of surviving. There didn’t seem much hope in deterring Koujaku if the man wanted to eat his intestines, but he tried anyways, steadying his breathing to a shallow hum in his chest, holding as still as he possibly could. Nothing happened, so he thought for a second that he was safe. Then a hand dug into his side, sharp nails sinking into his flesh, and he hissed at the actual pain.

Koujaku growled and it almost sounded amused, as if he had bought the farce for a brief moment and had tested to make sure the boy was still capable of playing. The dreaded moment finally came and Noiz caught a surprised breath as he felt claws rake down his sides, shredding clothing and tugging at the band of his pants. It was a struggle for him to figure out what Koujaku was after with his ability to feel completely hindered. He couldn’t tell what parts of himself were exposed, what was bleeding, what was bitten or scratched. All he knew was that the man-beast as pawing at him and a minute later there was weight settled on his back. Then nothing happened.

Noiz grunted, struggling to push himself onto his elbows, but the man’s weight was too much for him to move. He was pinned on his hands and knees and he had no idea why. Well, he had one notion…

“Koujaku?” He called, trying to crane his neck and glance over his shoulder. His head was violently shoved back down, eyes to the floor. Something trickled down the side of his face and a second later droplets of blood appeared on the ground. 

He was about to call out again, to ask what the hell was up, but his voice caught in his throat as Koujaku’s weight shifted and he felt something. There as a dull stretching sensation pricking at his backside and it took him a moment to get over his disbelief and realize he was being mounted. Was this happening? Was Koujaku really—

He jerked, his thought cutting short at a powerful thrust he actually felt. It was indeed happening. Koujaku was inside of him, thrusting with a force he had never felt the man use before. It rocked him and rubbed his insides in all the right ways, making the experience almost enjoyable. But something was off, something was very, very wrong. Usually they were chest to chest, laying against one another and fighting for dominance as they kissed and bit and sucked. Sure, they barebacked now and then too, but not like that. Koujaku had never hunched over him in that awkward manner, hands on his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh, and elbows digging into his sides. 

He wasn’t just being mounted, Noiz realized, he was being ridden. He was being fucked like an animal. That truth stung him and he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because it was just one more testament to how far gone Koujaku was. Yet another shred of his humanity had been lost, replaced by an animal’s instinct and drive. No feeling, no passion, just the basest of needs. The act hurt a lot less than the realization that it meant nothing.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wet and Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Watersports
> 
> I saw someone on tumblr asking for it and I thought "I can see that". So I did a thing...and so did Koujaku.

Sometimes things were good. Amazingly good. Things shouldn't be good ever, all things considered. Locking himself in a cage with a monster should not produce any good times, in Noiz’ mind, but once Koujaku grew out of his phase of constantly snapping after him for blood, the cell was almost cordial. Like how it used to be. Their disdain for each other was obvious, but they tolerated the other's presence. 

For two weeks Noiz had hung to the side of the cell, balefully watching Koujaku watch him. The man still drooled and growled, baring his teeth often. It started to irritate Noiz, but what could he do about it? Words had virtually no effect on the man-beast, as if Koujaku had lost all comprehension of the language after his change. They would sit for hours on end staring at each other and Koujaku would suck in heavy, deep breathes as he watched. It took time to cotton onto what exactly the animal was doing, but eventually Noiz figured out that he was being smelled, that Koujaku was familiarizing himself with his scent and deciding if he was friend or foe. Stupidly, he had tried to help the man come to a decision and had stuck out his palm for inspection, like he would to a curious dog. Two hours later, the bleeding finally stopped. 

The amount of blood he lost on a daily basis was discouraging, but, once he was finally seen as friend or pack or whatever it was the animal regarded him as, living in the cell wasn't as horrible as it had been. The longer Koujaku refrained from growling at him, the more comfortable he felt edging closer, risking the beast's wrath. The first time he sat next to the man, little more than an inch of distance between them, giving Koujaku the perfect chance to slash his throat if he so wanted, Noiz had waited for violence. He was growled at and regarded with a cold scowl, but Koujaku was otherwise unmoved. He stayed where he was, lying on his belly on the floor, not bothering to remind the boy that he was infringing upon personal territory.

Noiz was still grabbed at and dragged against his will, still mounted in fits of heated need, but sometimes there were soft touches. That the animal could even have a soft touch was astounding, but he did. Despite the biting and lashing out, Koujaku had grown into the habit of drawing Noiz by his ankle and settling his weigh over the boy like a heavy blanket. It reminded Noiz a bit like their post-coital embraces in the pre-monster phase of their relationship. It was like cuddling, but with a lot more worry and apprehension that when they woke Koujaku would turn on him again. Even so, Noiz begrudgingly admitted that it felt nice to have the man-monster pressed close to him, mimicking the old ways they used to cling to one another during the night. That was nice. Even the times when Koujaku was not in such a grand state of mind could be pleasant. Some afternoons he could sit in the man’s lap, offering his scarred arm as an olive branch to be chewed, and Koujaku would be content, tugging the boy close as he gnawed half-heartedly. He didn’t even try to inflict pain, Noiz noted; the man just chewed, marking him up, occasionally sinking teeth in and drawing blood, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Maybe that was what their cuddling had degenerated into. 

He should have suspected how easy it was to disrupt their peace. 

He woke one day to Koujaku jostling him, crouching awkwardly over him as he growled threateningly at the bars of the cell. Koujaku was almost always in a bad mood those days, so he hadn’t been immediately alarmed. Before he had cleared the fog from his eyes though he heard the cell door creak open and suddenly Koujaku was roaring indignantly. 

“What’s up?” He grumbled, finally looking to the front of the cell. He tensed the moment he did. 

They were being invaded. That explained it. Aoba was wading in with his creepy white face and that ever present predator grin. No wonder Koujaku was going mad, tugging at his chain and threatening violence. Aoba was unmoved; the boy just smiled, lifted a hand, and said,

“Sit.”

Koujaku did. He continued to growl and snap when Aoba walked past, but no other move was made. Was that the power of Scrap, Noiz wondered. That was more than just a little suspicious. 

When the other boy was standing in front of him, hands held calmly at his sides, Noiz pushed up onto an elbow. Aoba was here to see him it seemed.

“Yeah? What do you want?”

“Just a moment of your time.”

“You have it. So spill; what do you want?”

Aoba shook his head. “Not here. Come with me.”

His willingness was taken as granted; before Noiz could utter another word, Aoba turned and started back out the cell, stroking a hand through Koujaku’s mess of hair as he passed. The cell door remained open even after the white-haired boy passed through. He wasn’t going to like what was happening, Noiz knew, but he doubted he had much of a say in this. Pushing to his feet, he tried to ignore how Koujaku’s growls turned on him, deep and threatening. Whatever trick Aoba had pulled had left the man-beast paralyzed though, so he walked by unscathed. All things considered, Noiz was disappointed. He would have liked the excuse of being unable to follow the other boy because he was being crushed beneath the weight of Koujaku’s body. 

But he had no excuse. So he followed.

\-------------------------------  
He eyed Aoba as the boy circled around him like carrion bird, humming pleasantly as he took in some detail of the abuse Noiz had gone through.

"So he did." 

"Huh? Did what?"

"Touch you." Aoba smiled. Even his lips were white; it was creepy as hell. "I knew he would. He's always liked to be...physical." The other boy stepped closer, plucking at a dangling part of his tattered shirt. "He must like you."

Like seemed a strong word, given how often Koujaku was sinking teeth and nails into him, but maybe that meant something as well. Maybe there was some telling truth to the amount of times Koujaku sank his canines into Noiz's shoulder and held him firmly in place to fuck. It honestly wouldn't surprise Noiz, after he thought about for a while. They had engaged in hate sex before; was this really any different? But even then, Koujaku hadn't really liked him...had he? 

He jumped when Aoba placed his hands on his shoulders and ran them across and down his back. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He ground out, standing still as a statue. He had caught a glimpse of the power Aoba had when he boy had mindlessly passed his hand through Koujaku’s hair without having his hand snapped off; he didn’t really want to test that power against himself that moment. 

“I just want to see.”

“See what?”

“What he’ll do.”

Noiz frowned; he barely understood a thing when Aoba spoke now. Everything was a cryptic game to the other boy and he didn’t want to play. He endured Aoba’s wandering hands with gritted teeth, standing back rigid, arms pinned to his sides. Whatever the weirdo was after, he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of getting it, Noiz promised himself that. 

\---------------------------------------------

But of course his best laid plans never did seem to work…He was severely outmatched in every aspect of this power game he had entered into. No strength to fight Koujaku. No power of will or wit capable of out outmaneuvering Aoba. He was thrust back into the cell unceremoniously, graced with a final mocking smile as Aoba slipped off quietly, chortling to himself over some joke he had kept to himself. 

For a minute, he had stood a pace in from the cell door, watching over his shoulder as his former friend disappeared, the soft hum of Aoba’s voice lingering a few moments before he was plunged into silence. Noiz let out a breath, feeling oddly relieved. Who would have thought that his cell would come to be his safe place? After that strange encounter, he just wanted to curl up and sleep—sleeping was about the only thing he could do now a days with no allmates to occupy himself and with his current company unable to hold a conversation. 

Sighing irately, he stepped into the circle of Koujaku’s reach only to have his feet swept out from underneath him. The sick crack his head made against the concrete floor was telling as to how much pain he ought to be in, but he wasn’t focused on the dull, almost-aching of his head; he was more occupied with the animal pinning his shoulders to the floor, snarling down at him and baring teeth. A heavy dollop of saliva fell onto his cheek and he flinched, disgusted.

“The fuck, old man?! What are you—” 

Koujaku thrust his nose into the crumpled collar of his shirt, inhaling deep, sharp breathes. Was he sniffing, Noiz wondered. It appeared so; the man moved down the length of his entire body, snuffling and opening his mouth to pant, stopping for a particularly long while at his chest, where Aoba and pressed against him for several long, uncomfortable minutes while he rambled on about how wonderful it must be to have a lover as wild and free of will or cumbersome morals as Koujaku.

So fucking wonderful, Noiz huffed, holding himself as still as stone while the animal loomed over his chest. Sense told him that Koujaku was sniffing out the tendrils of Aoba’s warped scent, but that shouldn’t have been a new smell to the man. Why react so violently then? 

As if hearing the question, Koujaku jerked, eyes snapping forward and catching Noiz’ wary gaze. The beast’s scowl deepened. A low, threatening growl thrummed deep in his throat and rolled into Noiz’ ears, sending a shiver down his spine. Claws began to tear at his clothing, ripping the last shreds of his shirt until his chest was bare and his skin red and bleeding. Whatever had set the man off had put him into a real rage, Noiz thought, swallowing as Koujaku shifted forward, face to face with him, staring straight into his eyes. That had never happened before. This Koujaku never came face to face. The man’s eyes burned intensely, threatening; Noiz recognized that look. It was the same expression Koujaku wore when their teams met in back alleys or when they argued vehemently over the dinner table…or when they came together for mind blowing hate sex. Noiz didn’t know why, but seeing that fierce look of determination burning in the man’s eyes made him grin. 

He instinctively opened his mouth to make a smart comment, but the words caught sharply in his throat, his cocksure grin faltering as Koujaku crouched over him—no, squatted over him, Noiz corrected—and a stream of hot urine splashed onto his chest. He gasped, caught off guard, shocked, unable to do anything but lay still and stare into Koujaku’s narrow, determined eyes with his mouth gaping open. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the part that wasn’t imploding in disbelief, Noiz was cognizant enough to note that he wasn’t even growled at or being scratched. Koujaku held himself still, pinning Noiz with hands to the shoulders, holding him still while he emptied his bladder. 

Noiz snapped his mouth shut when a stream of the pungent urine slipped down the slope of his chest and pooled at his throat. If he got any of that into his mouth, he would vomit, he was sure of it. He was already disgusted enough that he felt his chest heave every few seconds. Jesus, why did it smell so strongly? And, more importantly, why was Koujaku peeing on him!? 

The assault on his dignity only lasted half a minute, if that, but it felt an hour to Noiz. He did not know how the animal managed to keep that much urine in his bladder, but Koujaku had covered his entire chest until it was pooling down his sides. God help him, Noiz thought some of it had soaked into his pants too. He was going to reek. 

Koujaku grunted when he finished, lifting his hind legs and shifting out of the strange position. He jerked the boy by the shoulders as he moved and sent a wave of bright yellow urine over Noiz’ shoulders and down his neck. Then, he simply climbed off and retreated to the spot he had been sleeping in. A casual exchange between cellmates. 

Even with the man’s weight off of him, Noiz could only lay on the ground, too astounded to move for an entire minute. Thank god he couldn’t feel it sitting on his skin, he thought. If he knew how warm it was, how sticky it was….God, but the smell was enough. He was afraid to sit up and have it wash down his chest and soak into his pants, but he had to clean up. The last scrap of his shirt was nearby and he snatched at it, balling the dirty cloth up and moping at the pool of urine on his chest. There wasn’t nearly enough fabric to rid himself of the foul smelling piss, but the more of it he got off, the happier he was.

As Noiz scrubbed furiously, he glanced over to Koujaku, hunched on the ground, watching him intently. He scowled, mind working at a frantic pace to piece together what had just happened. It did not take too long to figure out. Just as he began moaning to himself about how acrid and gag-inducing Koujaku’s urine was, his synapses fired, thoughts connected together, and he suddenly knew. Aoba had rubbed against him, had run hands all over his skin and clothing. Aoba had laid his scent upon him, Noiz realized. He glanced again to Koujaku; he did not stop scowling, seeing as he was still stinking of piss, but at least he understood why the man had acted. Those days, just understanding the world around him was a victory. Aoba had tried to scent him but Koujaku was not willing to have any part of that. The man had scented him right back, marking him clearly as property not to be touched by any other.

He was stuck again in a game of push and pull. Noiz sighed, throwing his yellowed shirt to the far corner of the cell. At least Koujaku he was slowly beginning to form a report with. If he squinted hard enough at the man-monster, he could see Koujaku as a friend. Aoba was an entirely different matter and one he still was not sure how to handle. 

With a grunt of annoyance, he forced himself closer to where Koujaku lay. He was regarded with a cold yet curious look. For once, he didn’t meet the man’s eyes. The smell of possession rolling of his skin in acrid waves spoke enough.


	4. 4/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life is funny. To certain people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not die, this month has just been--wow. I was on vacation for the first 2 weeks and that was 'Oh my god, my soul is awakened!' ...and then my personal life exploded. And not in the good way. That was more along the lines of 'Put me in a cage for two weeks and then come back and see how I am.'
> 
> I am working on this! I have ideas, (mostly this is a bunch of one shots and kinks being strung together for an ultimate end) but I need more! I should take suggestions.

4/?

He was a fucking dog. There was no other way in Noiz’ mind to liken the animal he was housed with to a concrete subject. Growling: check. Drool: check. Doggy style: check. Inability to use a fucking toilet as anything but a means to get water: fucking check. That assault to his sense of pride and humanity the boy thought he could let slide; the shit Toue tried to slip them in their cups each meal was not water, no matter the guards’ claims, so that left them with no other alternative to quench their thirst but toilet water. Still, watching the red haired beast hungrily dip his face into the bowl and slurp obnoxiously was, well, not nearly as funny Noiz thought it would have been to see Koujaku drinking out of a toilet. 

“Maybe you could get us a few cans of soda.” He murmured to one guard after their dinner of chicken (a half frozen slab of mealworm product) and vegetables (wilted carrots and broccoli) showed up. The suggestion wasn’t taken too kindly, if the grumbled curses thrown at him were any indication. He had scoffed quietly, knocking his glass over and watching the liquid dribble into a crack in the concrete floor. That was fine; he could go without.

Refusing to drink the toilet water hadn’t ended well for him either. The animal had watched him eat, noting his glass rolling around the floor, empty. After Koujaku had taken his fill of water, he urged Noiz over—more liked dragged unwillingly—and sat there, staring unnervingly, waiting for the blonde to drink. 

“No fucking way, dog.” Noiz spat, attempting to crawl away. He wasn’t that desperate yet. Maybe when dehydration began to hit. Maybe.

The vice grip that caught his ankle to keep him in place would have been enough to draw a cry of pain from his lips, Noiz knew, if he could have felt it. The pressure alone made him grunt in discomfort. They sat in front of the bowl for a minute, staring intensely at one another, repeating the crawl and drag process twice more until the beast’s patience snapped. Teeth suddenly bared themselves at him and Noiz quickly sensed the shift in mood from tolerating his attitude to one-second-from-ripping-his-throat-out. The furtive tug against Koujaku’s hold was apparently the last straw. 

His vain twist of his limb ended with the animal roaring half-heartedly right in his face and then pulling hard enough to pop something in his shoulder. If there was any pain, Noiz didn’t notice. He was too busy making bubbles. Hot and cold had never meant anything to him, so the shock of being hit in the face with cold water didn’t startle him, even the rough handling wasn’t that unusual. Being shoved head first into a toilet, however, was one of the few humilities he had been spared in his youth and the absolute shock of it caused him to inadvertently open his mouth and suck in a mouthful of toilet bowl liquor. Thank god Koujaku preferred the corner of the cell and he always flushed, because there were several ways, Noiz thought, that that experience could have been much worse. 

Panic started to set in when, a few seconds later, the nails biting into the column of his neck refused to relent. Jerking backwards did nothing and all his thrashing about managed to accomplish was to get Koujaku to force his head down further until his forehead collided with the bottom of the metal bowl. The very real terror of being drowned had just started to enter his mind when the animal’s nails sank even deeper and he was thrown onto the floor. 

It felt as if his lungs were collapsing in on themselves, deprived of air so long. An interesting sensation. Relief flooded in, but on its heels came indignation.

“You stupid asshole!” Noiz screamed, his cussing punctuated by intermittent coughs and watery, ragged breathes. And damn that shithead Aoba for moving the animal’s arms from behind his back. 

Koujaku regarded him with blank, red and gold eyes. There was no telling what he thought or felt, but the vague look of irritation that always seemed to linger in his eyes hinted at the beast’s mood. 

“Dumb dog.” Noiz muttered, slicking his sopping hair back and wiping the streams of water from his face. 

It was totally disgusting, he thought angrily. Covered in toilet bowl water. What had his life turned into? No matter where he went or what he did, he always ended up in some cage, confined and lost and unable to defend himself. Was it really any better than home?

The thought caught him off guard. Home? Where even was that? He thought this home was there in Midorijima, where his friends—he stopped. He didn’t have friends. Not anymore at least. Anyone he might have had the luxury of calling a friend once was now evil, removed from his life or…he glanced to Koujaku, still sitting close, watching him…or insane. It made him wish for the solid wooden door of his childhood home and his quiet, empty room with no one to bother him, no one to torment or abuse him. 

God, when had he grown so dramatic?

There was a tug at his scalp. 

“Stop touching me, asshole!” He snapped peevishly, slapping the clawed hand away from his head. He was in no mood to indulge Koujaku after that stunt.

The tug came again and again he slapped the hand away. The third time it happened he rounded on the man-beast, baring his own teeth in frustration.

“I said stop!”

It was no small shock that Koujaku actually paused, mid reach. The man canted his head softly, a lock of red hair falling before one of his eyes as he placed his hand on the floor, keeping his paws to himself. Any joy or satisfaction Noiz had at that victory was swallowed by his frustration, welling up that moment and releasing in a powerful cascade of curses and insults that he hurled one after the other at his uncomprehending cellmate. He swore like he had never sworn before, employing every language he knew, every crude name and cutting insult he could think of. He was stuck there because of that stupid moron Koujaku and the dog didn’t have the fucking courtesy to be polite to him while he suffered on the man’s behalf. 

His eyes pricked in the wake of venting and it sent him into another spewing fit of insults. 

Somewhere along the way he curled into a ball. Curling in the fetal position had always brought him some semblance of comfort, but he had to wonder if half of the comfort then was having Koujaku draw himself against his back and rest his chin on his shoulder. A curtain of red hair fell into his view and Noiz batted it away halfheartedly. 

“You need a haircut.” He mumbled, twisting his finger in the brittle threads. Koujaku would have never let his hair go to shit like that if he had been in his right mind. 

Koujaku leaned over him slightly, making that odd humming, purring sound he did when somewhat pleased, and pressed his cheek to Noiz’. The scrape of claws against his scalp was palpable, even to his dull senses. 

“You did want to cut my hair, didn’t you, old man?” He recalled sometime, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, after a bout of hard riding when he and Koujaku were reclining in bed and passing a cigarette back and forth. The man’s red eyes had slid his way, casually looking him over. Noiz had stared back, recognizing the look and waiting for the smart remark.

“You should let me cut your hair. It’s a mess.”

He had scoffed, resisting the sudden urge to reach up and touch it. “It’s fine.”

“It’s too long.”

“I said it’s fine.”

A smug grin had tugged at Koujaku’s lips. “You have split ends. It’s unattractive.”

“I don’t care about being attractive.” He had answered coolly before a grin twitched at his own lips a second later. “I already have you attracted to me.”

The old man had teased him about it a few times afterwards, but his unmoving refusal was enough to keep Koujaku from truly pestering him about it, though Noiz knew the man’s desire was sincere. Lying there with Koujaku’s newly-colored hair tumbling over his shoulder, a forest of split ends and damaged flakes, he thought that maybe he should have taken the offer while he had had the opportunity. It might have been nice.


	5. 5/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch me watch you watch me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am not giving up on this; I'm still balancing the needs of my family and my own life and I get bogged down and then I get lazy after the gym and fall asleep at 9. I am invested in wrecking these two though, don't worry. 
> 
> Also, taking kink suggestions!

5/?

He never really understood Aoba. From the first time he met him in rhyme, to when he tracked him down at the junk shop, through the entire Platinum Jail incident, he just didn’t get him. At first he had thought the other boy was simply good at crafting a façade of normalcy that he could switch off at any time, but the longer he got to know Aoba, the more he realized Aoba didn’t even get himself. That seemed a little dangerous, for someone to be walking around with a ticking time bomb of uncertainty sitting on their shoulders, but Aoba seemed content and rarely did that switch get flipped. 

Stuck as he was then, with an entirely new version of Aoba to contend with, Noiz really didn’t get him. It used to be that he could count on some thread of thought or belief or action that fed through every aspect of Aoba’s various personalities, but this albino version resembled nothing of the old Aoba. No movement, thought, or action was the same. Even his voice seemed to have changed, getting just a tad softer and a pitch higher. 

“You’re fucking weird.” Noiz growled, lifting his arm unwillingly as Aoba smeared some amber liquid all over him. He didn’t want to know what it was. Poison? Chemicals? It didn’t smell really, so he couldn’t quite place the purpose. Of course, it also meant that he wasn’t just getting a nice oil bath. 

Aoba smiled at him, lifting the hem of his torn black shirt and running his slick hands over the flesh he found. There was no response to his insult and Noiz was almost disappointed. He couldn’t get past this guy’s exterior. He couldn’t do anything to get even a bat of an eye. 

He endured the manhandling with a grimace, wondering what all of this was for and praying it wouldn’t end in him getting a golden shower again. That shit was disgusting. Eventually, when Aoba reached just a tad too far for his liking and he couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer, he let his curiosity get the better of him and blurted his question.

“What the hell are you even doing?”

Aoba’s gaze flicked up to him, pausing midway down his calf. The boy stood, adjusting his pristine robe and smearing some of the dark liquid there. “Another test.”

“Trying to see if he’ll pee on me again?” Noiz asked bitterly.

He was not answered. As with the last ‘tests’ he partook in, Aoba finished his task, revealing nothing, and he was unceremoniously shoved back into his cell. A step in and he noticed something odd. Aoba was not leaving. The boy lingered with hands on the cell bars, watching.

“Something you need?” Noiz sneered, half turning.

“Just waiting for my results.”

“Results? Wha—”

The chains in the corner of the room rattled, followed by a long, low growl. A shiver ran up Noiz spine. He recognized that guttural near-moan. It heralded unpleasant things to come. It meant soon he would be on his knees, soon he would be bleeding, face pressed down into the dirty floor, his body brutally used for inhumane amounts of time as Koujaku released inside of him one time after another. There was nothing enjoyable or satisfying about those encounters, no brief pleasure that he could latch onto and ride out until the animal riding him tired of the game.

“You bastard!” 

Aoba smiled. 

The chains were rattling more intensely and Noiz turned towards the corner where Koujaku preferred to curl up during the day. He shifted just in time to watch the man unfurl from his position, a display of rolling muscles and raw, unbridled energy waiting to be unleashed. The boy swallowed heavily, not at all excited at the way the man’s eyes instantly locked onto him and his pupils dilated ever so slightly. 

He hadn’t seen Koujaku eye him like that since the first week he had been locked up. Apparently his novelty had worn off fairly quickly and pressing him into the dirt to fuck had ceased to be entertaining. They still fucked, that didn’t change, but over time the violence had bleed from the act, which Noiz was silently grateful for. Even if he didn’t feel it on the outside, he certainly felt the shame and indignation on the inside. 

Fortune was on his side for a moment; the lead of chain secured around Koujaku’s neck was too short to allow the man to crawl over and grab him. There was a two feet gap between them that felt like two inches to Noiz. Regardless of the chain being pulled taut, unwavering, Koujaku tugged ruthlessly, gauging marks into the concrete as he attempted to pull himself forward against the relentless metal. The shackle around his neck pulled just as tightly, the rough edges digging into the beast’s dirty flesh. Swells of blood began to drip down the man’s neck and Noiz hesitated to think why the man was suddenly so intensely interested in him to the point of causing self-pain. 

“Go on.” Aoba prompted with his sweet, lulling voice. “He shouldn’t hurt you. He only wants to smell you.”

That seemed too mundane a suggestion for Noiz’ good sense. He lifted his arms, as he had when Aoba first spread the liquid onto him, and examined the amber stains. No chemical he knew of would cause a reaction like that. No natural chemical at least.

“Aphrodisiac?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at Aoba who was still standing with hands on the bars, watching interestedly.

The other boy laughed. “If that were so, don’t you think you would have felt the effects too? You’re the one covered in it, after all.”

A valid point, but he still scowled at the white haired freak. “What then?”

“Pheromone enhancement.” Aoba said casually, eyes flicking towards Koujaku, who had settled low on his haunches, lips pulled back in an annoyed snarl, eyes still trained on Noiz.

Pheromones. Did those really do anything? Was Koujaku suddenly so sensitive to the smells around him that he could sense the subtle changes of scent? Noiz swung his speculative glance the same way as Aoba, dredging up the little he knew about animals and pheromones. 

Pheromones got animals hot and bothered; they brought out the instinct to mate or hunt or protect. He wondered what instinct his smell brought out in Koujaku. Likely not protect, because the way he was being eyed, he felt as if he were going to be mauled any second. It was difficult to decipher if what followed the impending crash to the floor would be pain or pleasure. Maybe both. 

“Noiz.” 

He looked over to Aoba. It felt odd to hear his name; Aoba had never said it until then and Koujaku appeared to be incapable of speech; the closest he could get to a name from the animal was a ‘Nnnng’. Hearing the crisp ‘N’ and rolling consonants followed by the sharp zzz was…refreshing. It was easy to lose himself in his cage. He didn’t want to forget himself enough and lose his name.

“Go to him, Noiz.”

That was the dumbest suggestion he had heard in a long time. So why was he doing it?! He took two decent length strides and Koujaku leapt at him, grabbing him by the waist and dragging him to the ground. His head didn’t smash against the ground this time; that was something to be grateful for. He ended up on his back, neck cradled in the crook of Koujaku’s arm, saving him from a bad blow. 

They were nose to nose, the man’s eyes narrow and threatening, cracked lips scowling. In a normal situation, that was around the time he would have offered up some clever retort or innuendo, egging Koujaku on. As was, Noiz had nothing to say; words were useless when dealing with this animal, so he laid still, waiting to see what was to happen next. He flinched violently when Koujaku leaned down and began to sniff him, much as he had done the last time Aoba performed an experiment with him. Flashbacks of being urinated on clouded his mind and he began to squirm, hoping to avoid a repeat encounter. 

The growl was expected. The tongue tracing down his neck was not. Had the man decided to chomp on his shoulder and tear out a piece of his flesh, that would have been along the lines of normal, but the way Koujaku slowly, gently pushed his tongue against his neck surprised Noiz. Could he have felt it, he thought that it might have felt…nice. Maybe even romantic. On the heels of that thought came the realization that he didn’t sense the familiar prick of nails digging into his skin and tearing his flesh. He was being stroked and touched tenderly. 

The nails came out soon enough though. When Koujaku couldn’t reach any more of his flesh, he began tearing at the last shirt he had, so Noiz immediately moved to shuck it off, lest the encounter end with him permanently devoid of any clothing. In the days following the last experiment, he had lost his overshirt to urine stains and his pants to some wild need Koujaku had had one night to mount him. Which left him with nothing but his black shirt that provided barely enough cover to protect his modesty. 

Fortunately, there weren’t many people to play modest around…and he had never really cared about modesty anyway.

He hadn’t even settled back into the animal’s arms before Koujaku’s mouth was on him, licking down his chest and lapping at his nipple before closing his lips around it and sucking. 

He bucked instinctively, responding to what his body knew was something sexual and pleasurable. He wasn’t the only one letting instinct take over; as he pressed his hips forward, he could feel the hardness of Koujaku’s cock between his legs. An annoyed little thought thrust into his mind, tempering his easy acceptance of his current position, and he wondered if Aoba had planned all of this far in advance, making sure Koujaku’s arms were in front of him, confined in a much more maneuverable type of shackle and the only covering keeping him modest a simple swath of dirty white cloth that could be easily pushed aside for sex.   
Stupid Aoba. He didn’t have time to think of that bastard. All he could think of was how good it actually felt when Koujaku bit down on his nipple and pulled. A moan slipped from his mouth and he forgot about their audience, wrapping his legs around the man’s waist and pulling him closer. There was pressure again as Koujaku turned his attention to his other nipple and sucked eagerly. 

Noiz bit his lip, arching his back and sighing at the pressure of Koujaku’s cock pressed against his own. “Kouj—”

“Koujaku.”

Movement stopped. The mouth left his chest and Noiz had to clench his teeth from moaning in disappointment. Suddenly the beast was growling, the sound deep and angry, rolling out of Koujaku’s throat and thrumming in Noiz’ ears. He tried to follow the man’s line of sight, but he didn’t need to think overly much on why Koujaku was so upset. Fucking Aoba! He would have thought that by now the boy would have gotten whatever data he wanted from the experiment and politely fucked the hell off, but apparently there was more to this show. 

“Do you like him, Koujaku?” Aoba crooned, chuckling softly.

Koujaku growled, his grip tightening enough that Noiz could feel the change of pressure around his shoulders. 

“Is he yours? You certainly act like he is.”

Nails were digging into his shoulder.

“I could take him from you, did you know that Koujaku?”

There, Noiz thought. He could feel the nails now. Koujaku was angry.

There was a long drawn out silence then as Aoba stopped speaking, knowing just how far he had to push to get the reaction he wanted. Koujaku’s chest heaved as he pulled in shallow, enraged breaths. Now that the heat of the moment had been shattered, Noiz had no reason to be so complacent. He tried to worm out of the man’s arms, hoping to avoid as much conflict as he could, but the instant he shifted, Koujaku’s gaze turned to him and something snapped in the man’s eyes.

He immediately brought a hand up to deter whatever wild thought was passing through the man’s head. “Don’t--!”

His hand was shoved away, crushed beneath him a second later as he was thrown onto his belly, his hips jerked back and up into what must have been a very welcoming position for Koujaku. He didn’t even fight it. Koujaku was shifting, leaning over him, chest to his back, arms over his shoulders. The pressure of the man’s fully engorged cock pulled at his backside. Noiz scowled, trying to move himself into some sort of position that might offer some dignity, but with the animal pinning him with his weight and the force of the movement of his body, there was little to do. His eyes flicked across the cage to Aoba, still standing in front of the bars, gazing happily at them. If he could crucify the man with looks, he would have, but Aoba wasn’t paying him any attention; his stare was fixed just above Noiz’ head. The boy craned his neck as best he could to get a look over his shoulder. He wasn’t at all surprised to find Koujaku glowering back at Aoba with more ferocity in his gaze than he would ever be able to muster.

He was pissed too. Every time they almost had something akin to a tender moment it seemed Aoba was there to disrupt and twist it into something dark and sinister. The abuse he had suffered through was enough to last him through old age; he was not about to give every scrap of comfort and joy up without letting Aoba know he would fight for it. He grabbed Koujaku’s wrist, forcing the man to move his arm. 

Finally he scored a point in the game. Aoba’s white brows shot up in surprise, his smile faltering as Noiz guided Koujaku’s arm around his stomach, forcing the man to hold him tight and secure. His scathing glare was nothing compared to Koujaku’s, but with the both of them staring, challenging Aoba as Koujaku made his ownership clear, he was sure both of their points were being made.


	6. 6/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can protect you too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell I got off my ass and did something on my days off! Miracles do happen! Maybe I just need sexy inspiration lol I need a hundred more kinks to fill! I should make my tumble one of those 'send me kinks and head canons'. I wouldn't mind that.

The chains weren’t always meant for Koujaku. There were times Aoba approached, his deceivingly benign smile unwavering as he dangled a heavy lead of chain links from his hands. The first time he had seen the lead, Noiz hadn’t known what to expect; until then, Aoba’s attentions when he visited the cell had always been focused on Koujaku. In retrospect, he supposed, in some twisted way, it still was. When Aoba was working on him, tracing hands over his chest and digging his heeled boot into his flaccid cock, they were both ever aware of the constant growling from the other corner of the cell. 

Aoba turned his head slightly, eyeing Koujaku. “Restless, are we?”

“Stop pissing him off.” Noiz grumbled, annoyed at the manhandling. He knew Aoba had no interest in him, so the only explanation was that the jerk was going his usual route of riling Koujaku up for test results. 

The other boy looked back at him and smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get at you. Not until I’m done at least.”

That sounded ominous.

“What exactly are you planning?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Noiz didn’t argue his skepticism. Nothing that came out of Aoba’s mouth could be trusted and everything that happened in that cage concerned him, regardless of who the attention was aimed at. It was a small world he lived in so he had to be mindful of every aspect of it and his greatest focus had become Koujaku and what happened to and because of the man. 

Aoba and Koujaku was a messy combination. Anytime the white haired jerk was near, it sent Koujaku into a spitting rage that left Noiz covered head to toe in bleeding claw marks. Initially, he had thought the markings were the result of the animal letting out his frustrations on the only available outlet, but slowly he had begun to form an alternative opinion. He would be flattering himself if he thought Koujaku actually remembered him and was displaying signs of his former affection, but he could not deny that there was obvious affection. Koujaku’s protectiveness was palpable to even the dimmest of guards who would be growled at when they eyed Noiz suspiciously. 

Odd that the only care he received then was from the monster he had been housed with. Or maybe it wasn’t. Even with all of their bickering and brawling, Koujaku had always had a soft spot for him. Even when he was insulting him, the man would make sure he was safe, looked after…happy. It had been strange to have his favored opponent be his secret caretaker. No matter the amount of fuss he made when the old man tried to coddle him, he wasn’t going to deny to himself that he actually enjoyed the soft, caring attentions. It was unlike anything he had experienced before and he wallowed in it every time Koujaku was in a mood to lave attention on him. Not that he would ever confess to it; not even torture could pull those words from his lips. 

Sometimes, when Noiz was feeling particularly indulgent to his sorrow, he would wonder about what would have become of them, had they not gotten involved in Platinum Jail and Scrap and all the trouble between. Clueless as he was to how normal relationship grew and functioned, even he could calculate when the malice left Koujaku’s eyes and see that, given time, something entirely different might have grown in its place. But that was as far as he would allow the thought to go—he would acknowledge the possibility that feelings might have grown, but never allow himself to consider how far that growth could have gone. There was no returning to those times, so he ought not waste the brain power dwelling on could-have-beens.

When Aoba was done with his arms, they were secured behind his back with a pair of tight shackles attached to the lead of chain the boy had dangled in front of him earlier. The lead was secured to the wall behind him and he found he could only lean forward five inches or so before the chain stopped him. Not very far he could go. Aoba was determined he stay in one place, it seemed. 

He watched as his old friend turned from him, fixing his gaze on Koujaku, shackled at the other end of the cell and growling threateningly. The collar around the man’s neck was digging into his flesh again, drawing blood. Something about Aoba put the animal off his usual bad mood and put him into a horrifyingly foul disposition. Whereas Koujaku had bit and clawed and hurt him before, when Noiz reflected on it, he didn’t think the man would have outright killed him. That he survived the very first night was proof enough of that. The beast would hurt him for damn sure, but Koujaku’s eyes had never looked at him as wildly as they did at Aoba that second. If he could, Noiz thought, Koujaku would kill the other boy. 

“Quiet.” Aoba crooned, reaching his hand out to stroke his pale fingers through the man’s red locks. His boldness was rewarded with a sharp bite that sent a stream of blood down the boy’s hand.

Noiz watched carefully, making no sound as Aoba sighed happily, pulling his hand away and gazing at the wound lovingly.   
“That hurt.” He heard the boy sigh, but to his ears it sounded like a moan of pleasure. 

Aoba tried touching again, brazenly sitting in Koujaku’s lap and stroking his hands through the beast’s mat of hair. The next time teeth came out, they sank into Aoba’s shoulder and drew enough blood to stain the back of the boy’s pristine robe. The amount of blood seeping from the injury was a tad alarming, but Aoba didn’t appear to mind at all. He continued to sigh and croon playfully, saying silly stupid things that, when Noiz really listened, sounded a lot more malignant than pillow talk ought to be. Not that he and Koujaku hadn’t shared their fair share of insulting and threats in the midst of fucking, but when they promised to destroy each other there was never the very real worry that the other would actually do it. It put Noiz on edge and he struggled against his shackles to gain a better vantage to peer at the two, desperate to see what Aoba was up to.

That sex was happening was obvious; even if the old Aoba had never shown any inclination towards Koujaku’s affections, this one let his amour be known. Often. He had never actually seen them fuck before, but he guessed that it had happened and likely fairly often; there was a time when Aoba would appear in front of their cell daily, eyeing him like he were an annoying gnat, then turning his gaze to stare longingly at Koujaku. Apparently, Aoba had gotten tired of staring at the two of them, watching the animal sate his lusty needs on Noiz. 

There was a time once when he had wanted Aoba too, Noiz admitted; not as much as Koujaku had, but he wouldn’t have minded having someone soft and caring as the old Aoba to hold at night. Seeing Aoba then, rocking against a snarling, snapping animal, all of his old feelings withered and he found that he held nothing but contempt for this new Aoba. There was nothing good left in Aoba, who found delight in chaining them and locking them in a cage, who liked to test and tease them for nothing more than personal enjoyment, who dishonored the love and friendship he once shared with his childhood friend by using him for sex. That was what bothered Noiz the most; Aoba didn’t have the excuse of his mind being wasted and ruined and reverting to animal instinct to excuse his rape of Koujaku. He did it because he wanted to and he had every mental capacity to stop himself if he wanted to. He just didn’t want to. 

A growl bubbled from his throat and he glowered at Aoba’s bloodstained back. The other boy was lifting his hips and riding Koujaku hard, moaning as if he were experiencing heaven itself. It was a sharp contrast to Koujaku, who was scratching angrily at his back and snarling, thrusting instinctively, but trying to pull his body away at the same time. 

“Isn’t this good, Koujaku?” Aoba said in his deceptively lulling voice. “Isn’t this what you always wanted? To be with me?”

The white haired boy threw a glance over his shoulder, eyeing Noiz as he watched. A sly smile twitched at Aoba’s lips and he leaned forward to bite Koujaku’s ear. 

“I love you now. I love what you’ve become.”

A flinch traveled across Koujaku’s face and he turned away, pulling teeth and claws back. Noiz immediately perked up. That was…a human reaction! He opened his mouth to call out, but he caught himself after the first syllable had left his mouth. He didn’t trust Aoba; there was no telling what the boy would do with that information. More tests? More sessions of Scrap? More torture? The possibilities left a weight of lead in his belly and he hoped he hadn’t drawn attention to himself. His noise, fortunately, had gone without notice; Aoba was too busy riding out the last of his pleasure and making his own noise when his orgasm hit that he couldn’t be bothered to think of Noiz. 

It was difficult to sit quietly and wait for Aoba to leave, but somehow Noiz managed. He refrained from swearing at Aoba as he stood and righted his clothing. He even stopped himself from spitting at the other boy when he passed and pat his head like he were a docile puppy. 

“Hey.” 

Aoba paused just before exiting the cell and turned, looking bored. 

“You going to let me go?”

“Oh?” The other boy raised his brow. “You want to leave already?”

Noiz pressed his lips together, clenching his fists behind his back. “Are you going to undo these chains?” He clarified. 

“Ah. You just want to be free to cuddle.”

“Yeah, sure, something like that.”

They stared at one another for a long moment. Noiz hoped there was nothing to read in his eyes, because he could tell that he was being studied. Years of perfecting a façade of apathy had been coming to great use in his new home and he used tose skills as best he could that moment. If there was anything notable in his eyes, he was apparently a boring read; Aoba stepped closer, loosened the chain lead and then undid his shackles. 

He didn’t bother to say thanks.

Good sense told him to wait until they were alone before approaching Koujaku, but when he thought it safe to move, he practically jumped up and ran to the man. After what he had seen, Noiz was glad he had never slept with Aoba; the jerk had finished, gotten up, and left while Koujaku was hunched over on the floor, growling and groaning mournfully, and still half hard it looked like. 

He hesitated a step away then dropped down to his knees. “Are you…okay?” He didn’t know why he was asking, since he still didn’t think words had any effect on his dealings with the animal, but habit compelled him to ask. 

Koujaku pressed his forehead to the floor, moaning. 

He had been so excited to see the undeniably human expression pass across Koujaku’s face, but Noiz didn’t know what to do once he had the opportunity to properly investigate. He had seen the pain streak across the man’s face, but he wasn’t certain how to deal with it. Violence was always possible, but he risked reaching out and laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. The skin underneath his palm shuddered, but there was no other reaction. 

“He’s gone now.”

“Guuhhh…”

“He won’t come back for awhile.”

“Grrrruh…”

“You need to clean up; you’re covered in his cum.”

“Gggraaaah!”

Noiz instinctively pulled his hand back, awaiting an angry lashing limb or snapping teeth. Nails slashed across his chest, forcing him back. The stupid worry that his last article of clothing had been shredded distracted him enough to glance down at his chest while Koujaku surged up and dashed as far as his chain allowed to his favored corner of the cell and proceeded to bash his head against the wall with enough force to crush bone. 

“Stop that!” Noiz screamed, scrambling to his feet and running over. 

His strength was nothing compared to Koujaku’s; when he tugged at the man’s shoulder, desperately trying to stop the next blow, he was casually tossed aside. There was something to be said about his perseverance, however. He shot back up and was pulling at the man again mere seconds later. When he was thrown aside repeatedly, Noiz simply picked himself up and continued to pull. 

Whether it was by his begging, coaxing, or Koujaku simply growing weak from multiple blows, he finally managed to drag the man away from the wall and cease his suicidal campaign. A haze of thick red was running down the animal’s face, clouding one eye and smearing over his nose and lips. Noiz didn’t have the patience to carefully construct a theory on what it was his words had stirred inside of Koujaku’s head and what part they had touched—whether it was man or beast; he was more focused on the bloody head wound the man sported. Glancing at the wall, he saw that there was now a massive splatter left from the multiple blows Koujaku had given himself. 

“Idiot.” Noiz murmured, refusing to acknowledge the panic welling in his chest.

Pitiable little moans were still falling from the animal’s lips, but, for once, Koujaku seemed to have no energy. When Noiz coaxed him to lie down and place his head in his lap, the man obeyed, pressing the clean side of his face into the boy’s thigh. Comforting words did not come easy to Noiz; he knew little of consolation and alleviating the suffering of others, but he dredged up the kindest words he knew and spoke softly while he ran a hand through Koujaku’s tangled hair and dabbed at the man’s wound with the edge of his shirt.


	7. 7/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting hot in here...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I finished my chapter! I finally got my new laptop so now I can write where I want, when I want! Amazing! Sorry for that wait...

7/?

He was back in chains a day later. It took hours after the incident for someone to come down and attempt to bandage Koujaku's wound. The medic that had approach was a timid looking man in a baggy lab coat, a medical satchel dangling from one hand while the other held a shaking syringe. Given the severity of the wound, Koujaku was in no mood to get up and make a menacing show of strength, though the moment he smelled the man he started to growl and bare his teeth. 

Noiz sat calmly, the animal's head pressed to his thigh, a hand resting in his red hair. Hours of nursing the man's wound and keeping him calm had exhausted him as well, but, upon seeing the syringe, he had found a sliver of energy to be defiant and stared at the approaching man with his unnerving blank gaze.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The man had paused, wide eyes shifting from Koujaku to Noiz. He didn't need to speak; Noiz could see the question clearly in his eyes.

"He might look easy enough to subdue right now, but you get too much closer and he'll leap up and take a bite out of you." His words had the intended effect; the medic stopped approaching and took a hasty step backwards. He decided to push his luck. "Why don't you give me the syringe? I'll do it."

That was apparently not an option, but he had tried, Noiz consoled himself. The man retreated, tools and syringe in hand, and they were left alone. Noiz sighed in relief as the quiet reverberated through the cell. Koujaku had quieted as well, his growling ceasing, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. 

"Hey, you're not supposed to sleep with a concussion, dummy."

"Gruuuh."

"I'm just saying. It would kind of suck to be locked up in here with a corpse."

Luckily, Koujaku didn’t die, although the animal did sleep, against Noiz advice. There was a spot of browning blood on his thigh the next day that alarmed him some, but a puddle of dried blood became the least of his worries when Aoba appeared, carrying a medical kit and a pair of shackles. 

The shackles were for him. Again he had to watch from the end of a short lead of chain as Aoba forced his way into Koujaku’s personal space and laid hands on him that the animal clearly did not want. Little for him to do about it though; no one else would come down, Noiz was certain. Only Aoba could get close enough to tend and bandage the wound, which the boy did with surprising care. He almost gagged to hear the sweet promises Aoba made; swift healing, loving care, the best treatment available. There was a chance it wasn’t total bullshit, Noiz thought. Once Koujaku was all healed up, Aoba could come down and play again. 

By the end of the visit, Koujaku was resting on the floor, a clean bandage around his head and a powerful sedative leaving him nearly catatonic. Aoba approached Noiz then, the demure, almost friendly expression on the boy’s face vanishing and replaced with a far more menacing look. He stood in front of Noiz, gazing down at him disapprovingly. What Aoba had to disapprove of, Noiz didn’t know, but he was in no mood to deal with it. Turning is head away, he rattled his chains.

“Gonna undo these?”

Could he have felt, the boot heel grinding into his groin surely would have stolen his breath and kept him from spouting another smartass comment.

“You’re beginning to be a nuisance.”

“Me?” Noiz scoffed, not bothering to wriggle away from Aoba’s boot heel. “You’re the one constantly working him up. If you hadn’t taken a little ride on him, he wouldn’t have freaked out. That’s on you.”

The next heel strike connected with Noiz’ face and he felt something crunch in his cheek. If anything were broken, he was not to receive care; Aoba scowled at him then turned on his heel, slamming the cell door shut as he went. Eventually someone came down with food trays and released him from his shackles. Neither of the prisoners had much of an appetite.

\---------------------------

“I want you to drink it.”

Noiz swished the purple liquid in a circle, eyeing his cup with distrust. He was not holding a class of mundane juice, that was certain. He wondered if he should waste the breath to ask what he was drinking, but thought against it almost as soon as the words began to form in his mouth. Asking never produced any answers; he had better luck just agreeing to whatever Aoba wanted and letting the boy explain as things progressed. 

He drained the cup in five heavy gulps, tasting tart grapes and a hint of something chemical. He smacked his lips loudly several times, eyeing Aoba blankly and then passing him the cup. His obedience was met with surprise; Aoba stared a second before taking the glass and placing it on the lab table nearby. Neither spoke. After many visits to the lab, Noiz knew when he was being studied, so he sat quietly, fixing his gaze at a point on the far wall and thinking of nothing in particular until his attention was called for. 

“Do you feel anything?” Aoba asked at length, using some foreign device to scan the other boy.

Noiz snorted in dark amusement. “I don’t feel, remember?”

The reminded brought a frown to Aoba’s lips. “Ah, this might not be as fun as I had hoped.” 

“What was it this time?” Noiz asked, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. He wanted to be back in the cell, back behind bars and away from Aoba, back curled in the comfort of Koujaku’s solid bulk. They hadn’t done much the last few days but sleep, what with the beast’s head wound, but it was a companionable way to pass the time, huddled up with no moves towards violence. It had almost become routine, Noiz realized. 

He pursed his lips, thinking how oddly comfortable it was tucked in the curve of Koujaku’s arm, cheek pressed to the man’s chest or shoulder. He pressed his sweaty palms on the table, trying not to think how much he wanted to be out of that room and back on the dirty floor of the cell beneath a blanket of flesh. 

“Poisons.” He blurted, desperate to fill the silence of the room.

Aoba smiled at him, eyes shining in pleasure. “You always used to annoy Koujaku. Every time he saw you, he wanted to slam you into a wall and pummel you. I suppose he got his wish in the end, didn’t he?”

“Acid. LSD. Nitric oxide.”

“Did you know how much he hated you? How much he wanted to crush you? I always held him back, but sometimes I wished he would get one good smack in and send you sprawling.”

“Morphine.” Noiz licked his dry lips and bit them, thinking suddenly of Mizuki and the black hooded gang members.

“I still wish it. I still wish he would let his instincts take over and tear you to pieces like he wants to. If it weren’t so dangerous to have him unbound, I would let him at you, but I can’t do that just yet. I think you would like that; to finally feel pain at the hands of your worst enemy as he sinks his nails into your body and tears you open to eat your throbbing heart right out of your chest.”

Noiz slammed his fist onto the table with such force the glass toppled over and the scanning device Aoba had been using earlier clattered to the ground. 

“What the fuck did you give me?!” 

The outburst moved Aoba not at all; his grin never wavered as he rose to his feet. “I think I should get you back now. Get up.”

Whatever he had been drugged with, Noiz felt its effects as they walked back to the cell. His head was spinning, leaving him wobbling as they moved at a snail’s pace down the halls. At one point his footing became so bad he had to place his hand on the wall to keep his balance. From there, he had to take each step with careful precision, though his feet still tangled and stumbled over one another more often than not. 

He swore again and demanded to know what he had been given, but his cursing did not even gain a backwards glance from Aoba. Onwards he stumbled until—thank god, he never thought he’d be happier to be back in prison—they arrived at the cell and he fell in. In the corner, the chains rattled and Koujaku shifted, curious to know where he had been, Noiz supposed. He pushed onto his elbows and struggled to gain his feet, but they were useless. There would be no getting them underneath him again until the drug wore off—if it wore off. 

A weary whimper escaped his lips at the idea that he might have actually been fatally drugged. If what Aoba had been saying in the lab was any indication, he truly was in a precarious position where he ought to fear for his life. He hung his head and let out another strangled sound that he could hardly believe came from his own throat. Across the way, Koujaku had unfurled from his sleeping position and was sitting at the end of his lead, eager to know what the commotion was and discover why his cellmate was making such strange, uncharacteristic moans. 

Seeing Koujaku staring intently at him made Noiz’ chest ache oddly and he swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly watering profusely. The animal’s golden eyes locked onto his for a moment before lifting to gaze over his shoulder at Aoba. Those eyes narrowed threateningly and Noiz clenched his thighs together when Aoba laughed and said,

“I think he’s mad that I touched his possession. I believe that’s what you are now, Noiz; a possession. You would agree, wouldn’t you?” 

How could he deny it? Whenever Koujaku was in the mood for something, he was there to sate the need that arose. He had no say in it; there could be no comparison between his strength and Koujaku’s. Free to be thrown around, shoved on his knees, mounted, pissed on, clawed and gnawed. But...but, he realized with a bit of dark amusement, he liked that. Not so much the peeing part and having sex forced on him, but the sensation of being owned, of having someone that not only used him, but took care of him, that held affection for him—that he enjoyed. 

His gut clenched violently and Noiz clamped down on his lower lip, squeezing his legs together and moaning low in his throat. Koujaku started clawing at the ground, attempting to get close.

God, how great would it be to be possessed then, Noiz wondered, chewing his lip harshly. Vivid images of being held face to the ground filled his head and he could almost feel the pull of Koujaku’s cock as the man lifted his hips and drove in. The best time, he thought, was when Koujaku had pinned his shoulders with both hands and leaned all his weight over him, thrusting angrily and growling into his ear the entire time. He wanted that. He wanted to feel Koujaku’s weight on his back, wanted the pressure of claws digging into his shoulders, wanted the real pleasure of having the man’s cock throbbing deep inside of him and then filling him with hot cum that dripped out of him for hours. He wanted that now. 

“Aphrodisiac.”

Noiz looked up, barely able to comprehend anything beyond the lewd jumble of thoughts in his head. “What?”

Aoba’s smile widened. “I gave you an aphrodisiac. It’s in effect now, I see. Why don’t you go to him? Crawl to Koujaku.”

There was a little nudge in the suggestion, a subtle thrum in Aoba’s voice that said it was command and not really suggestion, but Noiz did not need the command. His cock was full and hard between his legs, aching for release without having been touched. Even had Koujaku been growling and snarling, he would have crawled over if there was a miniscule chance that he might get what he had wanted. As was, there had been no growling at him for weeks and there was a very high chance he would get what he wanted. 

Each move he made was agonizingly slow, his body screaming in need and collapsing on itself more than once. Finding the strength to get back onto his hands and knees and finish his slow journey across the cell was almost impossible, but he made it. Somehow he made it to the cot in the corner of the cell and collapsed against the edge, pressing his cheek into the rumpled sheet and sucking in deep, heavy breaths. He could sense Koujaku moving closer, could hear the man sniff as he took in his scent. Much as he wanted to relieve the overwhelming need to be fucked raw, he couldn’t find the energy to move. Breathing took more concentration than he knew he possessed. 

Koujaku leaned over him, taking in a deep inhale at his neck and a strangled moan of pleasure escaped Noiz mouth. A barrage of lustful thoughts crowded into his mind again, but before he could act on any, a clucking of teeth drew his attention back to the other end of the cell. There was no energy left to turn and look at Aoba, but Noiz struggled to hear what the other boy had to say.

“That won’t do at all. How can you expect to relieve yourself when you’ve got your lazy ass pressed to the floor? Don’t just sit there, Noiz; entice him. Lift your hind—maybe even do something welcoming. Try spreading yourself open.”

The very idea made him start to rut against the side of the cot eagerly. The command was repeated and he did just as Aoba suggested, shifting further onto the cot so his ass was raised invitingly. One hand was fisted in the sheet, the other he reached back with and spread himself as best he could. It was probably not as welcoming a sight as Aoba thought it was; Koujaku had come closer, but as of yet the only reaction his display inspired was a snort of confusion. 

“God—fuck me!” He cried, bucking hard against the mattress. “Why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“He must be confused.” Aoba answered; Noiz could practically hear the smug grin in his voice. If he hadn’t been a puddle of lustful need, he would have leapt up and tried to strangle his old friend. “The way you smell, how you’re acting—he must think you’re in heat. An odd turn of events when you’ve never given off such signs in—how long have you been in there with him now?”

He didn’t have time to try and count days, weeks, months. With a frustrated cry, he plunged two fingers as far inside of himself as he could, desperate to feel anything, even if it was the tiniest if tugging of skin brought on by his own small fingers. It would have felt fantastically better with Koujaku’s cock shoved inside, but his last straw of patience had broken and he needed something inside of him right then. Fucking himself on his fingers did little to relieve his need, but it was something. 

A low growl thrummed in his ear suddenly and Noiz almost cried in relief when his fingers were pulled free. Weight settled on his back, just as he wanted, and he could feel the pressure of Koujaku’s cock pressed tightly against his ass, threatening to enter. He pressed back, moaning wantonly, but Koujaku was still somewhat uncertain, he noted. The man leaned down, taking another few gulps of his scent. 

Arms slid around his belly, tightening so that there was no way for him to slip free. The pressure was almost uncomfortable, but Noiz whimpered and moaned happily all the same. When Koujaku started to nip at the base of his neck, tugging at his flesh now and then, he thrust back against the man’s erection.

“Come on, why aren’t you doing anything?” Grinding back did nothing so he tried wriggling out of the grip around his middle. “Fuck, you’re supposed to think I’m in heat, why aren’t you jumping on me?! Do something, you dumb animal!” 

He jerked violently, almost slipping free. That seemed to be the incentive Koujaku needed. The man’s grip tightened to what was surely bruising force and he growled, a low, dangerous sound. He shifted and Noiz squealed embarrassingly as he was pressed down so hard the breath left his chest and he finally got what he wanted as the man pushed inside all the way to the hilt. Catching his breath was impossible after that; each snap of Koujaku’s hips slamming into his backside forced out whatever air Noiz managed to get into his lungs and left him panting, grasping helplessly at the sheets as he was fucked. 

It was over before Noiz even knew he had come, but he had, shuddering and screaming as he forced himself as far down on Koujaku’s cock as he could manage. Seconds later, Koujaku was tensing and his bucking stopped. He was never sure what exactly he felt when someone came inside of him, but Noiz knew he actually felt something and he wanted to pretend that what he felt then was his lover releasing a hot, heavy load of cum inside of him. He was basking in that imagined moment, loving how full he thought he was and letting out soft puffs of breath and mewls of pleasure.

“Again,” he murmured, dropping a hand to stroke Koujaku’s arm, wrapped snuggly around his middle, “do it again.”

Koujaku hummed, his entire chest vibrating against Noiz’ back, then leaned forward and sucked at the juncture of the boy’s neck and shoulder. It wasn’t clear at first whether the animal would oblige him, but just as Noiz was about to complain he was shifted, pushed further onto the cot, and the man repositioned himself. There was no preamble beyond that. One bout of sex melted into another, images and sensations bleeding into each other, leaving Noiz incoherent and unable to gain a handle on his bearings. He was barely aware of when they paused or when Koujaku came. All of his thoughts and senses were a jumble focused on fucking. The only time sense came back to Noiz was much later, after what he assumed was hours, when he was sprawled on the cot on his belly. 

Obviously, it didn’t hurt, but Noiz did notice a distinct stiffness to his joints that he supposed had to do with overexertion. There was stiffness elsewhere too, he noted incredulously. His mind wasn’t a wasteland of delirious need, but his body still burned and ached. A wave of sensation crested over him and he groaned, leaning forward to press his forehead to the bed. 

“Still?” He gasped, clenching his thigh muscles. Not that he had ever experimented with aphrodisiacs before, but he had thought that after hours and many, many rounds of sex, the effects would have worn off. 

The chains rattled and Koujaku sat up, gazing at him in the darkness, roused by his grumbling and helpless shifting. Dripping precum and covered in semen as he was, Noiz supposed he still smelled like he were in heat, whatever that scent might be. He knew he was still aroused and ripe for another fuck; that must have drawn the animal’s attention too. Maybe if they did it again…  
Noiz flopped onto his side, curling into a ball with his hands between his legs, cupping his erection and biting his lip to stifle his whimpers. It was morbidly embarrassing to hear the words and sounds that came out of his mouth that day. One drink had reduced him to a simpering, desperate mess. Stupid Aoba. He wormed the tip of his finger inside, trying to fill the void, but the intrusion did nothing but make him wish for more. 

“Koujaku…”

The mattress dipped and he was pulled into the animal’s arms, back to Koujaku’s chest. He squirmed and wriggled and groaned miserably until the oddest sound filled his ears. It was such a surprise, he continued to squirm, but Koujaku held him tighter, murmuring again.

“Shhh.”

“I can’t.” He whimpered, pushing back against the man’s crotch.

Nails scratched at his hips as Koujaku adjusted him, lifting him and then settling his weight on his cock. Noiz let out a sharp cry that melted into a sigh of relief as he pushed as far back as he could. The stretch and fill of Koujaku’s cock inside of him was just enough to sooth his frayed nerves and allow him to relax. The burning desire was still boiling his blood, but enough of the drug had worn off that it the frustrating desire was manageable, now that he had Koujaku buried inside of him. 

The pressure of arms around him, of the animal’s cock full inside of him, the soft murmurs against his neck and hair…it was enough to lull Noiz into a pseudo slumber. Huddled up in a strange little mating ball, he thought that, despite the unnatural urge to get on his knees and rut, it was the most comfortable he’d been in a long while. The feeling was probably brought on by his warped and heightened senses, Noiz told himself, but he enjoyed it all the same. Still, torment was torment and he was beginning to get tired of being Aoba’s personal pornography. It was a sick cycle of getting comfortable, then getting dragged into experiments and having his anger reignited, then the flames dying only to be rekindled. There had to be a way to break the cycle. He was smart enough to get in there. He had to be capable of getting out—of getting them both out. 

“Ah!” 

Koujaku bucked suddenly, trying to get comfortable Noiz realized when the man settled a moment later and hummed in his ear once more. 

Later. As soon as he was capable of thinking without Koujaku’s giant throbbing cock inside of him, he would start his planning. Hopefully that would be soon. Until then…he pushed down on Koujaku with a happy sigh, shivering as the man moved inside of him.


	8. 8/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe it is. Let's see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened

8/?

Being on the receiving end of Aoba’s fascinations was torture, Noiz knew just from observation. It was an entirely different hell to experience that fascination first hand. Thankfully for him, he amusement he provided Aoba was vastly different than what Koujaku could offer. The greatest relief of all was that Aoba had no interest in using him for sex. It was hard for Noiz to believe that he had once wanted to screw with the other boy. The notion was nausea inducing now. 

Even without the draw of sex, he was a great amusement to Aoba. Noiz recognized his error the first time he was taken to the lab to be ‘examined’. Reminding Aoba of his inability to feel the physical effects of the aphrodisiac he had been given had planted some sort of dark seed in the boy’s mind which had quickly taken root and grown into a gnarled, gruesome fascination. 

He hadn’t initially been alarmed when he was strapped down to a table, his legs propped open and his hole liberally greased before some sort of microbe had been inserted. That was about all the examination there was to the whole affair. Aoba stood beside the medic, examining his insides, casually commenting on the damage done to him. Permanent scarring, tears and lesions, a possible infection in a tear that was never properly treated. Medications would be prescribed for that, he was told, but Noiz was going to wait until the pills showed up before he believed a word of it. 

“Koujaku is too rough.” Aoba sneered. 

Noiz sneered right back. “He’s fine.”

“Hmm,” the white haired boy hummed, moving closer, hooking a finger inside of Noiz and forcing him open further, “I wonder how far you can be spread before you tear. Koujaku takes you just fine apparently, but how much further can you go before you split and bleed?”

Indignation boiled Noiz’ blood, having Aoba’s finger buried inside of him, wriggling around as he speculated how far his body could stretch before breaking. He tried squirming away, but his binds kept him effectively immobile. Aoba smiled at him, forcing a second finger in to the knuckle and then withdrawing both digits.

“I wonder,” he repeated dreamily, walking over to a table of tools and allowing his hand to dance over each one, “just what can you feel? How deep do I have to go for you to feel me?”

He proceeded to wonder for over an hour. By the time Noiz was returned to the cell, his legs had grown weak on him and there was a wad of cotton inserted to keep him from bleeding all over the floor. Fortunately, all of Aoba’s efforts had done little more than tickle his insides a bit. Maybe he had winced once or twice. It was just the beginning, Aoba promised. The other boy was determined to find his point of pain, it seemed. It was a bit alarming, but Noiz chose not to dwell on it if he could. That was what Aoba wanted, he was sure; to fret and worry, which would make the next time all the worse. Instead, he went to the cot, curled up, and pulled the bloodied cotton from his body.

Koujaku gave him a good sniff and ran hands all over his body, but the man was thankfully not interested in pursuing anything further. They curled up and, for the first time in a very long while, Noiz fell right sleep without any plaguing thoughts worrying his mind. 

A day passed and Aoba came back. The experiments went further that time and Noiz had to admit that he was wriggling in discomfort at the end of the session, much to Aoba’s delight. Cuts began to appear on his arms and legs and Koujaku began growling each time he returned from the lab, grabbing him in a vice-like grasp and lapping at his wounds until they were clean and had ceased bleeding. The attention was a much welcome balm after dealing with Aoba and his tools. Sometimes he would fall asleep while the beast was licking him, other times he would shut his eyes and pretend that he had just gotten back from a rhyme fight or a team rumble and Koujaku was tending his wounds the way he had back before. 

When he wanted, the man could have a surprisingly soft touch. The claws always caught and scratched unintentionally, but that did not diminish the pleasure for Noiz. He could feel the pressure as Koujaku’s palms kneaded his back and sides and squeezed the muscles of his arms and legs. It wasn’t the usual, hard pressure that squished and bruised him. It wasn’t accompanied by threatening growls or angry snarls and spitting. It was true caregiving, motivated by nothing more than a desire to make him comfortable.

Soon, Aoba was coming into the cell to drag him out, freezing Koujaku with his Scrap powers while the man crouched over Noiz protectively. He would never have willingly gone with Aoba, but Noiz had never balked at the prospect of going with his former friend. Suddenly, he found himself laying still as a stone beneath Koujaku’s bulk, holding his breath as if that might fool Aoba into leaving. The strange shift in his behavior was not due to fear, he told himself. If the day had come that he feared Aoba then the other boy had triumphed over the both of them. No, it wasn’t fear. It was irritation and exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to spend his time sleeping in the security of Koujaku’s arms. No matter the tools Aoba brandished, or the threats he made, or the suggestions of death made sweetly at the height of his work, Noiz refused to fear him. 

“Come on.” Aoba coaxed, lifting a curtain of Koujaku’s red hair to get a glimpse of Noiz’ face. 

The blonde scowled. When he made no move to obey, Aoba smiled and reiterated his command, thrusting it into Noiz’ head and lodging it there with such force his brain throbbed. That was an alarming…feeling. 

Putting his feet to the floor, Noiz held a moment of disbelief, raising a hand to his forehead and rubbing at his temples. Pain. When had he started feeling that? He slid his eyes towards Aoba, an uncomfortably close distance at his side. The other boy was still smiling, waiting. 

“Shall we?”

“Fuck you.”  
\--------------------------------------------

He was not always certain of when it happened, but Noiz knew that Aoba was using Scrap on him. There were times it was easy to tell, like when he was being obstinate and refusing to do as he was told. After asking politely once, Aoba would revert to using Scrap, just for his own ease. Other times, Noiz was not so certain as to whether the power was being used against him. While in the throes of Aoba’s experiments, there were times his mind would open up, the trenches of his psyche quaking and throwing out gushes of vibrant memories. Some were good. Most were bad. They often left him quaking in emotional distress, so much so that he would not realize until much later that there was a subtle pricking in his hands or feet or his head. 

Feeling…

He would huddle beneath Koujaku upon return to the cell, rubbing his fingertips together or running the soles of his feet against the floor. Once or twice it had been undeniable that he had regained some sort of muted sense of feeling in his fingers and he had spent hours running the pads of his fingers over the man’s chest, down his arms, and over the expanse of his broad back. It was exhilarating, to finally be able to feel, to finally begin to piece together the great mystery of touch. Concepts of cold, warm, soft, hard---suddenly they were becoming concrete in his mind. It was baffling and humbling and just a little terrifying.

The joy he felt was muted though. The sensations were always short lived, sometimes lasting only a few hours, sometimes just through the night. Waking the next day, Noiz was never certain if he missed being able to feel or if he was relieved that all had gone back to normal. Had it been any other circumstance he was in, there would have been no question. All his life, he had tried to feel something. The pain of physical torture did not move him, but the mental torture coupled with it spoiled all and sucked any enjoyment he could have from pleasure or pain. Had Aoba strapped him down to the exam table, given him all his senses, and proceeded to disembowel him alive, he thought he could happily die. But it was never like so. Every time Aoba would bring him to the brink of pain, sometimes teasing him with hints of aching and stabbing, and destroy it all with his whispered implications and questions. It was meant to be menacing, but to Noiz it was more an annoyance. 

“Why don’t you let me feel it all?” He blurted, interrupting Aoba midsentence.

The other boy stared at him, appearing shocked. Honestly, Noiz wasn’t sure why he looked so shocked. It wasn’t like he was a very cooperative prisoner.

A grin began to slowly form on Aoba’s lips. “Feel it all, hmm? I would be afraid that you would overload your senses. You’re a delicate thing after all.” Noiz scowled. “You just want to feel Koujaku, don’t you? You’ve been getting awfully friendly with him as of late, what with your new abilities.”

“Jealous?” Noiz sneered. The look faltered a moment later as he felt Aoba dig the sharp edge of a scalpel into his leg. 

“Play all you like,” the boy said quietly, eyes narrow and threatening, “but he’s not yours. Bear that in mind.”

Noiz frowned, but refrained from retorting rebelliously. He thought a few choice comments though; no matter what Aoba said or thought or tried to enforce upon them, Koujaku was as much his then as he was Koujaku’s. He might be an obvious possession, but he owned too. He spent blood, sweat, and tears of exhaustion on keeping that animal sane and safe. They struggled to protect one another and keep each other happy. 

The session continued on in silence. More memories spilled forth from the cracks of his mind, dredging up images of the first time he had been in Aoba’s house, the first time he had met Koujaku. The day ended shortly after. Aoba shifted away from him, scowling fiercely, as if his memories had somehow offended the other boy.  
\----------------------------------------  
Koujaku was licking at a scratch on his side and it was absolutely maddening. Every lap of the man’s tongue made him squirm and jerk and bite his lip to refrain from laughing or moaning. Never would he have thought that he was ticklish—or he thought he was ticklish; he was still struggling to connect feelings with concepts. Koujaku seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, squeezing him in his arms, growling softly against his skin now and then.

When he could stand it no longer, he pushed the man away and forced himself to Koujaku’s chest. The chain connecting the shackles on the man’s wrists was an annoying barrier, so he slipped beneath it so that Kouajku could put his arms around him easier. He ran his hands all over the man’s skin, watching the way Koujaku shuddered or flinched. It was fascinating seeing how his touch aroused such reactions. He reached out and placed a hand on the man’s cheek. They were both still, staring at one another. The corner of Noiz mouth twitched as he ran his finger down the slope of Koujaku’s cheek. The man’s eyes were still that unnerving shade of gold, but the whites of his eyes were slowly reappearing, the strained bloody veins vanishing. He had been hypothesizing about what had caused all of that and the best he could come up with was that all of Aoba’s mind meddling had made the man’s eyes aneurism in distress. 

Teeth ground into the heel of his hand, breaking the train of thought, and Noiz gasped, breath hitching happily. “Do it again.” He ordered, forcing his hand deeper into the animal’s mouth.  
\------------------------------------------  
When next Aoba came for him, he was a menagerie of beautiful bites and claw marks. Even the worst of Aoba’s work could not damped his mood that day, which was likely why the other boy was as annoyed with him as he was. The tests were brutal that day, leaving splotches of blood on the tools and dripping down the table. 

“You’re enjoying this.” Aoba growled, throwing his instrument down.

He had always enjoyed pain; he had thought the other boy would have remembered that. Aoba stared at him for a long second, grinding his teeth together in frustration as he contemplated what to do. Anything might happen, Noiz knew, so he simply laid back and watched the expressions cross his old friend’s face. The exact source of the other boy’s frustrations was unknown until Aoba growled and leaned over him to spit in his face.

“I told you not to get close to him; you’re ruining everything I’ve made him into just for your own enjoyment. Do you like when he forces you on your knees and fucks you without any preparation? Do you like tearing and bleeding during sex? See how much you like it when you can actually feel it and then tell me!”

“What are you—”

There were no words to properly describe what happened next, when Aoba laid a hand to his head and forced his way into his mind. His skull seemed to cracked open and the foundations of his mind were ripped apart and shaken until every memory, emotion, feeling, thought spilled free and smashed into one another. His worst memories of childhood flooded to the forefront of his mind as his mouth filled with saliva and his vision swam and turned to darkness.

When next he came to his senses he was back in the cell, curled upon his side. The first coherent thought to come to him was that he was cold. The floor was like….ice. That was what everyone said. Ice was freezing and he was sure that what he was laying upon has more than just cold. He curled tighter as a shiver wracked his body. His head was still spinning and his stomach was lurching now and again, as if he might vomit. 

A worried whine a distance away forced Noiz to his senses. Cold, he was cold. With nothing but a torn shirt to keep him warm, he knew he had to get warm quickly. He still didn’t quite know what warmth was, but he had a decent guess as to where he might find it. Shoving up from the floor, he stumbled his way to the cot, flopped down, and coaxed Koujaku from his favored spot on the ground. Until recently, they had avoided the cot and its filthy stains, but, no matter how stiff it was, it was a vast improvement upon the unyielding concrete floor. 

Something was bothering Koujaku, Noiz noted between shivers. The man hesitated at the edge of the cot, brow furrowed, lips curling into a snarl. There was no time to wonder over the look; he grabbed at the torn fabric of Koujaku’s bunched up kimono and pulled forcefully. He coughed when the man’s weight fell on top of him, then shuddered in pleasure as he immediately began to soak up the heat that radiated from Koujaku’s chest. He pushed as close as possible, pressing his cheek to Koujaku’s chest and digging his nails into his skin. Eventually, Koujaku’s arm slid around his middle, holding him firm. The man shifted onto his side, draping his bulk over Noiz protectively. 

It was so warm, Noiz marveled, constantly shifting and rubbing his fingertips and the pads of his palm into the man’s body. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced. Even with his stomach heaving and his body quaking as it attempted to warm itself, Noiz felt a swelling of joy. He did not know if the sensation would last, but if he were to wake the next morning bereft of the gift, he would revel in it then, taking the time to truly exult in his new awakened senses. This was not like before, when Aoba had teased him with glimpses into the world of sensation with muted feeling. Every pore of his body had opened, every pain and pleasure sensor had been ignited. He was ready for it. He was ready to finally feel it all.


	9. 9/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Push and pull and maybe I can find something there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I am so sorry for how late this chapter is! I had 95% of it done before my brand new baby laptop died and had to be sent off for repairs! Sounds ridiculous when you think that the baby laptop was bought to replace the old laptop I had shattered...and it lasted a month before it had to be shipped off for repairs! Ugh. 
> 
> Again, so sorry for the long wait! And thank you all for the comments! I love reading them (they pump me up and get me excited to write more!) and you've all had such nice things to say! Please keep the feedback coming!

9/?

It was real….It was real. He could actually feel. It wasn’t a fleeting, manufactured sensation from rhyme or a dulled ache or pressure felt through his tough skin. It was real. Noiz had woken after the first night, dreading to find that everything had gone back to normal and he was as dull and senseless as before, but as soon as he had curled his hand against Koujaku’s chest he knew. It was so warm…Immediately he had pushed himself as close as he could possibly get, pressing his cheek to the man’s chest and sighing in absolute contentment. He felt the vibrations coming from Koujaku’s chest as the man hummed, just waking. 

“Mmmm?”

“You’re warm.” He murmured, letting his hands wander. He had never realized how many ridges and layers of muscle the man had; Koujaku was hard as rock, all taut, well formed muscle. It gave him a new respect for just how fierce the man had been and still was. He spent several long minutes digging his fingers into the man’s chest, feeling his pectoral and abdominal muscles. Warm and hard; those seemed like conflicting adjectives, but they described the beast perfectly. 

Koujaku began exploring in return, shifting to lie partially on top of him, an arm around Noiz’ middle while his free hand ran down the boy’s side. The prick of sharp claws scraping down his sensitive skin made Noiz shudder and moan. That was not an unusual reaction from him, so Koujaku continued to stroke and scratch, likely thinking only that his bedmate was in a playful mood. As if to confirm his assumption, Noiz thrust his body into the touch, squirming and panting as inch after inch of his body was touched and teased. He was ready and willing to spend the entirety of the day abed, letting Koujaku lave his body with attention and learn how each part of his body reacted to touch and stimulus. 

The hallways had been oddly quiet that morning. The clack of guard heels had disturbed the peace once on what Noiz had come to recognize as early morning rounds. A breakfast tray had appeared at the other end of the cell somewhere between then and when he had fallen asleep the night before. If his calculations of time were right—which was difficult to discern with no clock at hand and no way to measure the passing of the day---it was past the time for Aoba to show his face. Sometimes the other boy wouldn’t show until after lunch, but that was on rare occasions. Their sessions usually started early and ran late. Given what had transpired the day before, he had thought his old friend would be eager to see how he had taken to a constant barrage of physical sensations. 

Teeth sank into his nipple and Noiz yelped loudly, hissing in pleasure and arching into Koujaku’s mouth. The teeth relented as soon as he had cried out and were immediately replaced by the man’s tongue, pressing hard against the swollen nub. He curled his hands in the animal’s red hair, pulling him as close as possible, moaning and writhing while simultaneously crying at the pain.   
Koujaku hummed around his flesh, cognizant of Noiz’ pitiful sounding whimpers and the way his body hitched and wriggled, unsure if it was enjoying the pain or desperate to get away. The lapping of his tongue turned significantly gentler before he wrapped his lips around Noiz’ nipple and sucked gently. That, Noiz knew without a doubt, felt good. He pressed upwards again into the man’s mouth, stroking his hair encouragingly. He was getting hard just from that soft pressure and the gentle pull of Koujaku’s lips. 

Before anything could become of his arousal, the man moved down his chest, leaving his nipple pink and swollen, still bleeding from where he had bitten. Noiz groaned in disappointment, thrilled to realize how strongly his blood could boil when he was touched in the right places. Try as he might, no amount of pulling, prodding, and coaxing could get Koujaku back where he had been; the animal was intent on licking and nibbling every bit of flesh he could find. Perhaps Koujaku realized that he could now feel, Noiz thought distractedly; those love nips seemed considerably less harsh than usual. 

Frustrated as the boy was, he was eager to experience all Koujaku was giving. There would be plenty of time to turn over onto his knees and entice the animal into fucking. This was a better way to begin his journey into the realm of physical sensation, Noiz told himself: slowly learning what it felt to be touched and prodded. Once he was well versed with his own body, he could test it more. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax into the cot and bask in the experience of sharing heat, of finally being able to feel the coarseness of another person’s skin beneath his hands, of finally feeling the intimate sensation of being touched by another person. 

\------------------------------

Peeing turned out to be a far worse experience than Noiz thought. The pressure and burning strain of his bladder was horrible, but nothing could beat the torture of when he had to shit. His intestines churned and growled and it was so surprisingly painful, he was crying while he clutched at his knees upon the toilet. That did not seem right to him; he had seen enough footage of people using the bathroom to know it wasn’t supposed to hurt that much, so he had to suspect he was ill. That notion was not at all surprising, given how sparsely they were fed and, when they were fed, they were given swill. It was bound to take a toll on his stomach and, unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed until then. 

He fell back into the cot with an exhausted sigh when he was finished, tugging the edge of his shirt over his rear. Was the burning of his anus normal, he wondered. At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore and his bladder wasn’t a raging fire. Maybe, he thought, those were sensations he could live without experiencing again. To think, people did that multiple times a day; it seemed baffling suddenly. 

Koujaku settled him comfortably in the crook of his arm then, gnawing at his shoulder and neck while Noiz began to doze. He shuddered every now and then when the man moved his mouth, the slobber left behind chilling in the cold air of the cell. It was a short-lived discomfort; whenever he shivered, Koujaku would wrap him even tighter in his arms and press his warm body firmly against Noiz. It was easy to fall asleep in the lull of such an embrace. He didn’t care that he had only been awake a few hours. It was long enough to assault his mind with a plethora of new sensational memories. He needed a rest and what a lovely experience that was, all warmth and comfort and no worries at all. 

\-----------------

The first day was an on and off struggle for Noiz to come to terms with his new ability to feel. An hour or so of being awake and forced to endure his surroundings was enough to exhaust him and soon enough he was back on the cot, sleeping. Koujaku took Noiz’ strange behavior in stride, adjusting his own behavior as best he could so as not to chomp too hard when he was gnawing at the boy’s body or trying to keep his scratching to a minimum. 

The man was proving to be a fierce protectorate, sitting over him while he rested and ensuring he was as comfortable as possible. There was little the man could really do, Noiz realized, but, whenever possible, Koujaku was searching out ways to keep him warm and fed, clean and unmolested by the guards who sometimes poked their heads down to see what they were up to. 

Sensitive as he was then, Noiz found himself extremely grateful for the attentiveness. No one had ever protected him before. When he had been in dire need of loving care, he had been spurned by those who were meant to love and protective him. He had been ushered away to a cell that had really been no better than the one he was in then, and left to while the rest of his life away in isolation. So long he had spent fending for himself, it was at first frightening to find himself depending on the protection of another. The more he realized just how weak he was, the more he appreciated how Koujaku sat by his side, patiently waiting for him to give an indication of what he needed while watching the world outside of their cell to make sure nothing encroached upon the safety of their little home. 

It made Noiz melt in appreciation. His apprehensions of being torn apart by the beast he was housed with had dissipated ages ago, but the last barrier of hesitation that had previously held him back from actively reaching for Koujaku vanished with his new dependence upon the man. It seemed the more Aoba pushed to find his weakness, to frighten and beat the will to live from him, the more the other boy was pushing him into the animal’s arms. Reflecting on it, Noiz was not at all surprised to realize that whenever Aoba had worked on either one of them, they comforted themselves by soaking in the company of their cellmate. Whatever end Aoba was after, Noiz was pleased to see that it was backfiring.

He never really understood why he was allowed to stay in the cell. His initial appearance had been an obvious shock, but one Aoba had taken in stride and never even asked about. After hearing all the twisted things that came out of his former friend’s mouth, Noiz had come to the conclusion that Aoba’s willingness to allow him to stay was based upon some sick curiosity to see what Koujaku would do to him that had morphed into an insane impulse to see how far he had to push for that to happen. Push all he wanted, Noiz thought, sighing and curling into the warmth of the man’s body. Aoba’s playing did nothing but push the two of them closer together and he was reveling in it. 

A soft moan escaped his lips and encouraged Koujaku to shift atop him, pressing him into the cot with the full weight of his body. The chains were in the way again, but Noiz tried not to let them distract him as he wrapped his arms around the man’s body and arched up into his warmth. He earned a pleased growl against his neck that raised the hairs on his arms. So many sensations…they sent illicit shivers down Noiz’ spine. Teeth nipped at his shoulder, gentler than he would have believed Koujaku capable of with a mouth full of dagger-sharp canines. 

“Wuss.” He taunted, digging his blunt nails into the man’s back. 

Koujaku growled, a sound that once alarmed him and warned him of dire things to come. Now, it was a sound that was filled with promise of enjoyable things. The man ground his teeth into Noiz’ skin just a tad harder, but he stopped short of drawing blood.   
Usually, Noiz would whine and complain and insult at that time, but with his new sense of feeling, he had thousands of other things he could focus his attention upon. Now that he could enjoy the way the man’s hands roamed all over his body, he could lay back and soak in the experience. Docile was not typically a role he played, but why shouldn’t he allow himself a reprieve after the hell he had been through? He saw nothing wrong with stealing a few moments of pleasure. 

He let himself be mastered, remaining still and complacent as Koujaku shifted against him, grinding teeth and nails into his body as he thrust his hips excitedly. The man paused just as they were both getting eager, hips brushing against each other every few seconds. There was thought in the animal’s eyes as he gazed down at Noiz; some sort of contemplation was taking place. Even an animal would notice the severe change in his behavior, Noiz thought with a smile. He supposed he ought to be humbled that the man had catered to his change so well. 

“Who knew you could be so caring.” He murmured, letting his hand slide down Koujaku’s back, setting on the spot of skin just above the bunched fabric of his kimono. Noiz snickered to himself before leaning up towards the man’s lips. “My hero.”

Teeth snapped at him suddenly, nails sinking into his body before shoving him away roughly. Noiz cried out at the pain, falling back against the cot as Koujaku leapt away, retreating to his corner and growling unhappily. When the shock wore off, Noiz took a moment to take stock of himself. He had no idea what had happened, but he was not terribly worse off because of it. There were some scratches on his sides that were bleeding, but they didn’t feel particularly deep, but oh, did he feel them. The skin burned and stung and it was beautiful and annoying both at the same time. Forcing himself onto an elbow, he looked over to the corner, watching with a frown as Koujaku paced, whined, clawed at himself and the wall, then settled onto his knees, clasping his hands over his eyes.

Without hesitation, Noiz got to his feet and padded over, kneeling a safe distance away so as not to threaten the man’s personal space. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Koujaku whined upon hearing his voice. When the boy tried to lay a hand onto the man’s shoulder, he jerked away. 

“I don’t understand.” Noiz murmured, pulling his hand back. “I just tried to kiss you. Why is that so bad? Aoba kisses you all the ti---Oh.” 

He snapped his mouth shut. 

Stupid, he chided himself. He should have known better. He had gotten so wrapped up in the romantic nonsense that had been playing in his head, he had not stopped to realize that, until that point, their relation had been fucking and some rough care giving. Granted, the last day and a half there had been a drastic alteration in their exchanges, but he supposed just because Koujaku was gentler, didn’t mean the man knew the entire game had changed. He was still a beast, Noiz thought sadly. He could not simply explain the situation away and tell the man that now it was okay for them to indulge in romantic acts. Where he once needed rough and hard, he now wanted soft and loving. He could actually feel such acts and could appreciate them. But how was Koujaku supposed to know?

He hung his head, ashamed, feeling a hole of pain open in his chest, as if he had lost some sort of battle. “I’m sorry.”

Noiz sat for a minute, squirming in the awkward silence before returning to the cot and giving the animal his space. It was cold without Koujaku leaning over him, wrapping him in his strong embrace. He curled into a ball, trying to conserve as much warmth as he could, but a blanket or sheet would have helped profoundly. Goosebumps ran all over his body as he shivered, his skin prickling in discomfort as he noticed for the first time how stiff and rough the cot mattress was. It was truly unbearable in that cell. There was not one iota of comfort to be had. It amazed him that he had been able to overlook the inhumane conditions for so long. 

He wanted to go home. 

The chain attached to the wall rattled and a whimper filled his ears. Noiz didn’t want to know what was bothering Koujaku now. He didn’t have the capacity to deal with it right then. The whimpering was annoying though; he wished it would stop. The sound came again and his chest hitched, catching on a sob. He tried scrubbing at his eyes, sucking in deep breathes, biting his tongue between his teeth, but nothing could stop the whines and sobs escaping his mouth.

How fucking stupid, Noiz thought angrily. What the hell did he have to be so upset about? He was an idiot, to have such a stupid reaction, set off by---what? A rejected kiss? It was because he was so tired, he told himself, curling tighter and ducking his head into his knees. He was exhausted and starving and tortured---who wouldn’t over react to dumb things in his position? Really, he had been taking things quite well until that point. 

A blanket of warmth fell over him suddenly and Noiz made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. There was considerably less licking and biting than usual as Koujaku settled over him, putting him in the best position to stay warm. He tied to elbow the man away, but all that did was earn him a sharp nip to the shoulder; a warning to behave. 

“Fine, you stupid animal, do what you want. I don’t care.”

“Shhh.”

He hated that sound then. He could not honestly call it a word; Koujaku didn’t know words anymore. The only way the man communicated was through grunts, growls, and actions. It pissed Noiz off. Koujaku hummed in his ear again after he hiccupped.

“Shut up. Where did you even learn that?”

It was awhile later, after he had settled and his eyes had dried that he thought that, in likelihood, Koujaku had learned the shushing sound from him. They had been in a similar position, with Koujaku curled up against him, crying pitifully over something Noiz couldn’t yet understand. The only comfort he had been able to offer was soft strokes of his hand through the man’s hair and over his body and gentle whispers in his ear. 

\-----------

His behavior changed again and it did not get past Koujaku’s notice. As soon as he woke, Noiz untangled himself from the man and started pacing around the cell, yelling at guards for blankets and food or other amenities they would never receive. Koujaku regarded him with an odd expression from his corner, watching every move he made with alarming intensity. Eventually, when his screaming got tiring and provided them nothing, Noiz found a place to sit, far out of the man’s reach, and started speaking. 

No one ever understood me…I never really meant to hurt anyone…My mother would visit and let me sit on her lap, until father found out…I don’t even really know how I ended up in Japan…No one had gotten the better of me until I met Aoba in rhyme…I don’t know why I wanted your attention…the last time we met before this happened, you kissed me. And you meant it. I know you did…I meant it too…

He returned to the cot at the end of the day after another uninspiring dinner. When he was settled in his usual position, Koujaku climbed on top, rearranging as needed so he would stay warm during the night. Regardless of whatever trigger he had pulled the switch on the day before, it appeared the man was going to continue to look after him. Once he had gotten over his own hurt feelings, guilt had settled in and Noiz wondered if there was any way to really make amends for reminding the animal of the trauma Aoba forced on him. 

He fell asleep, mind a mess of distressing thoughts, and woke to Koujaku’s nudging and the lapping of the man’s tongue against his neck to rouse him. Breakfast was here. The worst of his worries had dissipated over night, but he still worried if there was a way to move past the awkward place they found themselves in. Koujaku still regarded him with a wary eye, but by midday, the man was whining, pulling on his chain as he tried to crawl close to Noiz, who was sitting on the opposite end of the cell. 

Noiz sighed, picking himself up from the cold ground. “Alright, alright.” At least if he sat in the man’s lap, he’d be warm.

He did not immediately place himself in Koujaku’s lap; he sat a foot away, within the man’s reach, hesitant to get much closer on his own. There was no need to worry apparently; as soon as he was seated, the animal grabbed at him, dragging him the last few inches into the circle of his personal space. He was nuzzled and nipped, then pushed onto his back on the floor. It was a drastic change from the prior day, but Noiz was still wary. He shivered as his back pressed into the ground, keeping his hands to himself as Koujaku moved over him, biting, licking, and pressing against him eagerly. The man was just acting on natural instinct, Noiz told himself as he felt Koujaku grind against his hip. Every animal fucks. It didn’t mean anything. Only humans wasted their time with stupid emotions attached to the act.

“Nnnng.”

Noiz lifted his head slightly to look at the man crouched above him. That was his name, he thought, or what it translated to in the animal’s limited vocabulary of sounds. They locked eyes and Koujaku’s brows furrowed, appearing confused. The man dug his nails in and Noiz winced, a soft sound of distress slipping from his mouth before he could stop it. The look of confusion vanished from Koujaku’s face, replaced with surprise. The nails withdrew. Koujaku shifted away. 

Noiz did not bother to move. He couldn’t understand why Koujaku had pulled away so suddenly and, with how tired he felt, he did not even want to puzzle over it. He turned onto his side, ignoring the coldness of the floor, and shut his eyes. A little rest would do him wonders; with a clear mind, he would be able to pick apart the whys and wherefores of his cellmate’s actions and think of a way to lift the air of tension between them. Then, once he had muddled through all of that, he could turn his attention to his infantile ideas of escape. 

Slipping into slumber was still surprisingly easy, even with his senses butting into his dreams and telling him he was cold or that he was in pain. Eventually though, even he could not ignore the chill of the cell that sent him into shivers. He struggled to sit up, still bleary eyed and incoherent from sleep. Before he could rub the sleep from his eyes, a pair of strong arms slipped beneath him and shifted him effortlessly. Noiz wriggled instinctively, mind moving just a pace too slow to realize that he was being placed on the cot before his back hit the mattress. He lay still a moment, letting realization and realty sink in. 

Koujaku’s head thumped suddenly against his chest. 

Now what, Noiz wondered, turning his head. The man knelt beside the bed, head bowed, forehead pressed into the center of his chest. It was not a position they had shared before. Though he had no notion what had brought it on, Noiz could tell that the man was distressed. 

“What? You want the bed?” He asked, attempting to be playful as he reached out and gently ran his hands through the animal’s snarls of red hair. He received a weak groan as response. “Well, then get on. I’m not moving. It’s too cold on the ground.”

Koujaku lifted his head, fixing him with his intense gaze. There were dark purple circles beneath his eyes and cracked lines of distress at the corner of his lids. Noiz didn’t recall the man looking so tired before. He sympathized. 

“Get on.” He urged, shifting towards the wall and making space. When the man continued to stare incomprehensively at him, he slapped his hand against the mattress in open invitation. 

The tired sigh that slipped through Koujaku’s teeth did not get past his notice, but the man moved all the same, climbing abed with him and considering only a moment before settling on top of him. Regardless of what any sense of pride said, Noiz preferred that position. It was the warmest by far and if he turned on his side he could look into the man’s eyes. It felt safe. It felt intimate, like a secret only they shared. 

They stared at each other for a long while, watching each subtle movement of the other’s body, tracking the movements of their eyes. Again, Noiz had the distinct feeling that there was thought behind Koujaku’s gaze, but he had no notion what those thoughts could be, whether they were the thoughts of a man or a beast. Did Koujaku wonder what he thought as well? Could he even have such intelligible thoughts? Noiz prayed so. 

“I want you to kiss me.” He whispered. It seemed unlikely that Koujaku actually wondered or even cared what he was thinking, but he offered the information regardless. 

The man furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly. 

Noiz bit his lip. It was a big gamble…but one he was willing to take. He did not want Aoba to forever have rule over them. What Aoba broke, he was determined to fix. Pushing himself against the man’s chest, he reached up and ran his thumb across Koujaku’s lips. Wariness leapt into the man’s eyes, but Noiz was happy to see that he still had a thumb and it had not been bitten off in a fit of anger. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He crooned softly, continuing to trace his thumb over the cracked skin of Koujaku’s lips. “I’m the last person who will hurt you. I’m not like that psychopath.”

Koujaku continued to stare at him, doubt stark in his eyes. Noiz decided to press forward anyways. What was there left to lose? So he might get pushed away again. If he had to, Noiz told himself determinably, he would try every day until Koujaku accepted his advances and learned that is touch would never hurt and was not to be feared. 

He moved forward slowly, mindful not to startle the man. If Koujaku had to pull away, he would give him the space. But the man didn’t move; he growled a little in distrust, but he remained still, waiting to see what Noiz was about. He did jerk when their lips brushed together, Noiz noted, but still Koujaku did not move away. It leant the boy the confidence to press their lips together harder. 

It was not the best kiss they had ever had; in fact, Noiz thought it was one of the worst. He could feel how rough and raw Kouajku’s lips were and they rubbed against his own chapped lips uncomfortably. It was awkward and if he were to guess Koujaku was not enjoying it at all. But it was a kiss. How long had it been since they had kissed? Before all of this, Noiz knew. Before Oval Tower and Aoba going as mad as Koujaku. It had been the night before the man had disappeared…when they had fucked hard for hours and then lain in each other’s arms, pulling gently at the other’s lips and breaking into lazy make out sessions until dawn. Koujaku was going somewhere and though he would not say exactly where, Noiz had been able to tell from the way the man acted, from his reserved but overly affectionate behavior, that he feared he might not make it back. 

Noiz pulled back suddenly, cringing at the memory. Memories of that night came back to haunt him periodically, but they left an acrid taste in his mouth then, recalling how unintentionally romantic that evening had been and how there was barely a shred of that intimacy left in their relationship. 

The scrape of claws against his cheek startled him.

“Wha—”

The last syllable did not get past his lips. It tumbled back down his throat, turning into a groan of surprise as Koujaku turned his head and sealed his lips over Noiz’, pressing with fervor. Another soft moan thrummed in Noiz’ throat as his body tensed and then immediately relaxed as the man wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. They parted for air, but mere seconds later Koujaku was atop him, pressing his full weight against Noiz and pulling at his bottom lip before kissing him with a ferocity they had not shared in months.

It was too much, too fast, but Noiz did not care. Just this once, he could allow his senses to overload. Letting out a loud groan of pleasure, he wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, digging his nails into Koujaku’s back and pulling him as close as possible. A similar sound of pleasure rolled from the animal’s chest, vibrating into Noiz’ smaller body and making him arch in excitement. 

It was too much to hope that he had tamed the beast, but as they writhed together, kissing and biting at the other’s lips, Noiz thought he had discovered some lost remnant of Koujaku’s humanity. And if he could find one piece, then surely, with enough digging and prodding, he could dredge up other pieces.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowing hot and then blowing cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon this much belated chapter. I don't like to leave my works unattended for so long when I have plans to finish them, but a few big life events occurred. We recently lost my grandfather and we're a close knit family (surprising for how much we don't get along). It was a struggle to find energy and the desire to create once more, but I am ready. 
> 
> Please do enjoy and let me know how you like it!

Chapter 10

The change in heat was what initially woke him. Quickly thereafter, he became aware of a change in pressure and comfort, but the very first thing Noiz was cognizant of was the warmth of breath puffing across his lips. Soon, that warmth was pressing against his cool skin, prying at his lips. He opened his mouth and welcomed the warmth without hesitation, moaning softly as a blanket of heat settled over him, pressing into his slim body. 

Koujaku bit at his bottom lip, tugging gently before forcing his way past Noiz’ lips to explore the cavern of his mouth. It was a rough, crude exchange, not at all like the skillful kisses and caresses of the man’s tongue that Noiz had enjoyed before, but it was still blissful. There was no doubt that he was enjoying himself—that they were both enjoying themselves. His skin flushed and beads of perspiration began to form as their kiss deepened. Koujaku was eager to explore him inside and out, licking and nipping at his neck and shoulders between sloppy kisses. It did not take long before Noiz felt the familiar nudge of the man’s hard cock against his thigh. 

“Ah.” He took a deep breath between kisses, shifting his leg to rub against the man. 

Koujaku hissed and growled, pressing into him eagerly. It seemed he was looking for more than a good morning kiss.

“Greedy, are we?” Noiz murmured, voice heavy with the lethargy of sleep. 

With a coy little grin, he slid his hand between their warm bodies and found the man’s engorged cock in the folds of his kimono, rubbing gently. With a sense of touch added to the mix, foreplay had taken on a distinctly different air. Where he used to revel in the reactions others had to his rough touches, finding his own pleasure through their mixed pain, his smug confidence suddenly faltered. The human body was so delicate, he marveled, running his palm against the underside of Koujaku’s cock. His touch made the man shiver and thrust against him. The mere brush of his skin against another’s…that was all it took to bring pleasure.

He tried another touch, just as subtle, and the man groaned. A little more pressure, not enough to hurt or cause discomfort, and the animal bit down on his shoulder, rutting wildly against his hand. So that was what intimacy was, Noiz marveled, curling his fingers loosely around the man’s cock. Simple, soft touches; knowing the sensitive spots of one’s partner. It felt a good deal better than all the squeezing, harsh rubbing, and scratching he had done before. Not that those didn’t still appeal in their own unique way, but there was an enthralling beauty in this new world of subtle touches. He thought that he could easily get used to that type of lovemaking. 

Even so…he shifted, closing his legs and pushing Koujaku’s weight off of him. The man growled irritatedly when he took his hand away, but allowed Noiz his distance. It was still too soon for the boy. Every sensor of his body was still on fire and much as he wanted to chase down the delirium inducing pleasure of making love, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could handle it right then. There was little he could do to communicate that need for time to his beastly companion, but it appeared Koujaku understood well enough. The man retreated to the end of the cot, whining in agitation at his erection. Noiz saw a few furtive glances thrown his way, but he was never reached for. 

His new sensitivity must have been affecting his brain as well, Noiz thought with a small smile, shifting off the cot and going to kneel in front of the man; he was so pleased to have his privacy respected, he was willing to reward his would-be lover. Koujaku eyed him suspiciously as he moved closer, shielding his erection within his filthy kimono. 

“Let me.” Noiz said softly, smiling flirtatiously and placing his hands on the man’s thighs.

The muscles beneath his palms tightened before Koujaku growled low in his throat, hesitantly opening his legs for Noiz’ reach. He still needed to be careful, the boy reminded himself. He had achieved a victory in getting the animal to trust his kisses, but that was only a single step towards recovery. There were still a great number of doubts in his head as to whether he would be able to fully recover Koujaku’s mental state, but he was bound and determined to try. It would be a slow process though and he needed to respect that. 

Gentleness was not always easy to come and he grabbed the man’s cock overeagerly, making Koujaku grunt and pull out of his grip. Noiz reached for him again with a muttered apology, minding his grip, and Koujaku hesitantly allowed the boy back within his personal space. It was the most thought Noiz had ever put into a handjob; he had to mind the pressure of his grip and how tightly he curled his fingers, make sure he paid enough attention to each sensitive part of the man’s cock, and never push too far with his boldness. This was familiar to the animal, Noiz told himself. He had seen firsthand how Aoba had laved unwanted attention upon Koujaku. Those memories would be as potent in Koujaku’s mind as they were in his own. 

Worries aside, he appeared to have been doing a good job. Before long, the man was jerking into his hand, animalistic grunts of pleasure escaping his mouth. A smug grin pulled at the corners of Noiz’ mouth. He would have loved to finish it off by pulling his hands back and using his mouth, but that was not to be. Not yet at any rate. As much as he had enjoyed being bitten before, he did not want to spoil their relationship with anything resembling the twisted blowjobs Aoba indulged in. Koujaku did not need reminding of those startlingly violent exchanges. It was yet another thing he would have to repair, but that at least could be a spirited process. He could imagine the taste of the man’s cock in his mouth. 

Koujaku tensed suddenly and Noiz gasped as warmth pooled into his hands. It was hot. He pulled his hands away, cupping the heavy, white fluid in his palm and contemplating it. He had known it was hot, but feeling it for the first time was amazing. The semen stuck to his fingers as he rubbed them together, a strange but not unpleasant feeling. Koujaku watched him curiously, eyes following each of his movements. His eyes narrowed slightly as Noiz lifted his semen-covered fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, making obscene slurping sounds. It still tasted the same, but Noiz held a new appreciation for it. 

It was mildly difficult to clean himself up afterwards with Koujaku staring at him as intently as the man was. He could not even crouch over the toilet to clean his hands for fear that the man would take the opportunity to mount him while he was bent over. Not that it would have been entirely bad, had it happened, but he knew that he was just not ready for that. So instead of washing his hands of the sticky residue, he rubbed it away on the remnants of his clothing, left in a pile of scraps in case a need for them arose. 

The remainder of the day trickled by in a slow, yet enjoyable haze of physical pleasure that engulfed his waking and dreaming states. Breakfast was a disappointment, as was expected, and they went about their typical routine of stretching out cramped muscles before settling back down for another uneventful day. Usually, Noiz would fall asleep curled at the edge of the cot with Koujaku’s back pressed against his own. In the wake of reviving parts of the human within the man, however, it seemed Koujaku was eager to rekindle his old ways of wooing. Those stale old tricks had never worked on Noiz the way they had with the gaggles of clueless women that flocked around the man, but Koujaku had tried anyway and they would both laugh heartily at his cheesy lines. 

At least after awhile, Koujaku would give up on the pickup lines, Noiz thought with a bit of irritation as he tried to curl up for a nap. He enjoyed the attention lavished upon him and was greedy for the warmth Koujaku’s body provided, but when he was trying to sleep it was damn irritating when he could not push the man’s eager hands and slobbering mouth from his body. Pushing an elbow into the man’s side did nothing but make him shift to a new spot. 

“Geez, old man, I knew you were a romantic sap, but this is pushing it.” 

Koujaku hummed against his skin, mouth busy sucking at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. It felt nice, Noiz admitted begrudgingly, but it was still unwanted attention. For several minutes more he tried wriggling and shifting in attempts to gain some distance, but every inch he took only made the man cling closer. It was a vain endeavor. 

“Come on.” He growled, shoving his palm right in Koujaku’s face. “I want to sleep!”

The hand to his face forced Koujaku back and he looked indignant for a moment before snapping peevishly at Noiz’ palm. His teeth found home in the fleshy heel of the boy’s palm and he sank them in deeply.

The eruption of unexpected pain shook the lethargy from Noiz’ mind and his entire body jerked. His usually well-crafted mask of indifference split and he screamed, alarmed, and yanked his hand from the animal’s maw. There was no way to be indifferent to the throbbing, stinging pain radiating from his hand as he cradled it protectively against his chest. That hurt far more than he had expected and he could only think to blame the razor sharp teeth that had appeared in Koujaku’s mouth during his transformation into the strange beast. 

There was more blood than he would have expected for a few tiny punctures. The numerous cuts he had made on his hands in the past had bleed copiously before clotting and scabbing over; he recalled how the blood seeped forth with such force that it pooled in the cup of his hand and dripped down the length of his arm, as it did then. Just what he needed, Noiz grumbled to himself as he tried to blot the bite marks against his shirt. If there was a need for stitches he was surely out of luck, because even the most basic of medical care was out of their reach. 

He had suffered worse. Broken bones that had mended wrong, gauges that should have been stitched but were instead left to bleed, ripped nails and cracked teeth; he had mustered his way through all sorts of unpleasantries. This was a simple flesh wound in retrospect. 

“Nnng?”

Calm as he was, hearing his name made the last straw of his patience snap. “Don’t you talk to me, asshole!” When Koujaku stared mutely at him, head canted slightly in curiosity, he thrust his hand once more into the man’s face, stopping shy of actually touching him. “You did this, animal! You get off on hurting me? Thought that was something you promised never to do! Asshole!”

“I would never hurt you.” 

He remembered that promise suddenly, panted against his ear while Koujaku was buried inside of him, deeper than he had thought the man could go. He had mewled like a slut in response, arms and legs wrapped around Koujaku as he tried to pull him in even deeper. Their power play had ended minutes before, when his submissive pleads had unnerved Koujaku enough to stop the game---spank me, slap me, whip me, carve your name into my body. For his status as a revered and feared Rib leader, Koujaku despised pain; hated seeing it, feeling it, delivering it. It was an odd dichotomy that Noiz truly didn’t understand, but he had never cared enough to worry out the details. 

That the man had been disturbed enough to stop their game and untie him had made Noiz think that he were being kicked aside; his novelty had worn off and, once the man had seen how depraved he was underneath his façade of nonchalance and confidence, he was no longer interested. He had tried to stand, to reach for his clothes and leave with some dignity intact, but before he could gain his feet, Koujaku hooked him beneath his armpits and hauled him up, carrying all his weight to the bed. He felt none of the touches the man laved upon him, but he heard the sickeningly sweet things Koujaku whispered in his ear and had to hide his face in embarrassment. 

He had felt when the man slid his fingers inside to prepare him and he had gasped at the feel of Koujaku’s thick cock pushing in and finding home deep in the heart of his body. Koujaku had made a point that night. He didn’t need to use pain to make Noiz feel him and, much as the boy did not like to admit it, Noiz had been astounded to realize such a thing. It had not a vivid or consuming sensation, but it was enough to satisfy him and have him bucking, eager for more. 

Koujaku sniffed at the blood, puzzled it seemed over why Noiz was drawing attention to it. He stuck his tongue out, lapping at the droplets that were threatening to fall down to the boy’s elbow and began cleaning him. 

A sound of exasperation escaped Noiz’ mouth. “I don’t want you to clean my wound, dummy.” But he did not pull his hand away.   
He allowed Koujaku to lick the blood away and suck at his palm where the breaks in his flesh were, drawing out as much blood as he could before sitting back. Red was smeared all over the man’s lips and at the corner of his mouth. It made Noiz grimace.

When he settled down for his nap after wrapping his hand, Koujaku kept his distance. No matter the amount of scolding Noiz did, the man did not look guilty or abashed. For all his taunting, calling the man a dog, Koujaku certainly did not have his tail between his legs. If anything, the man looked annoyed that he was not able to satisfy his base desires. 

All because of a kiss, Noiz thought with a snort. He would have to proceed with caution if this was what he could expect each time he tried to reeducate the man on what love really looked like and not the twisted torture Aoba forced on him. In such a case, his ass would surely be sore for days to come.

\-------------------------------------------

Heat woke him again. And wet. Something warm and moist was stroking down his arm. Tongue; he was being licked. Noiz peeled open an eye, annoyed at the rude awakening. He was beginning to wish Koujaku would go back to ignoring him, as the man had the first weeks he had shown up in the cell. If that happened, he might be able to get some proper rest.

“Old man,” he groused, “you’re really pissing me off.”

Koujaku ceased his licking and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. 

He couldn’t stay mad for very long after that gentle caress. “What is it? Why are you interrupting my sleep? Don’t tell me Aoba is here?”

The thought made Noiz’ stomach turn to lead suddenly. Aoba had not been down since the day the other boy had ripped his mind open and bestowed his sense of feeling. Noiz knew very well that Aoba would be interested to see how he had adjusted and, once he had observed, there would be more experiments. Pain did not bother him; Koujaku’s bite earlier had surprised and agitated him, but it did not hurt him. Torture, however, would be another story. There was a good deal he could handle and handle well, but if Aoba dug in deep, cut him open and searched for the roots of all his pain, he would crumble. There was a vast difference from having someone sink teeth into his dick and someone taking a knife to his chest and opening him up to play with his innards. Had he really wished for that once? What a demented death wish. He truly was a depraved boy. 

He flipped onto his belly, turning his gaze towards the bars of the cage to search in the darkened hallway for a body. But there was no one. In the dim light down there, Aoba’s white robes practically glowed, but there was no glowing beacon of dark intent, just the gentle hum of the overhead lights. 

Noiz sighed in relief, turning onto his back and feeling the muscles of his back unfurl. If it had been different, he thought, he could manage whatever pain, agony, or torture Aoba threw at him. If his senses were blunt, never awoken, and he were feeling pain for the first time, he would relish the pain. Maybe. Instead though, feeling had been thrust upon him against his will and want. Worse, the first things he had felt were not the pain he had spent years longing to feel, but soft, gentle, warm things. Sensations far better than any pain could ever be. 

Turning his head to the side, he saw Koujaku stretch out on the cot and wondered as he stared at the expanse of the man’s tattooed back if Koujaku had ruined him for good.

\----------------------------------------------------

Koujaku tried to mount him that night, but careful pushing and stern words kept the man at bay. For a time. The animal had growled, a low sound with a hint of danger in it, and gone to his corner of the cell. There would be no warmth sharing that night, so Noiz curled into a tight ball, shivering to the sounds of Koujaku grunting and growling as he pleasured himself. 

The man was pawing at him again the next morning, his erection pressed to Noiz’ thigh when the boy woke. The man’s golden eyes watched him intently, waiting to see if his expectations would be met. Patience apparently was not a virtue the animal held.

“I’ve spoiled you.” Noiz spat once he had gained his bearings and pushed the man aside. 

To be fair though, he admitted later, they had spoiled each other. The only reason he had grown so comfortable with the animal and had been a willing lover was because the man had exerted so much time and energy caring for him and tending to his wants and needs. 

With his morning erection unattended, Koujaku retreated to his corner. Every move Noiz made, he tracked, but he did not move from his spot. All day the man stayed in his corner, venturing to the end of his chain only when it was meal time. Once the plates were cleaned of all food, he returned to the corner. No shared naps or quiet—Noiz hated to dub it so—cuddle sessions. 

As the day ticked on, turning to night, the air began to get cold. Still the man did not come to join him on the cot. 

“Come on, get over here. Your sulking is ridiculous.” Noiz said loudly, tucking his hands beneath his armpits to keep his fingers warm. 

Koujaku made a noncommittal sound that vaguely reminded Noiz of the noise the man used to make when someone had said something that he did not care about. Then the man rolled onto his side, back to him. 

“Oh, fuck you too.”

“Frrrr.”

“No, fuck you.”

Koujaku growled.

“No, you shut up!”

He was going insane, Noiz thought. He had finally lost his mind and had degraded to having imagined conversations with an animal who had no comprehension or knowledge of the spoken word. It was too ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that he started to laugh. Nothing about their predicament was actually funny, but he could not stop the ludicrous laughter that rocked his thin body. He had not laughed in so long, it sounded foreign to his own ears. The heaving, pitching, exhales and the deep, gasping inhales sounded painful and, to his surprise, his sides did begin to hurt. 

“Nnng.” 

Warm fingers pressed into his back suddenly and Noiz yelped, still laughing. His reaction startled Koujaku enough that the man pulled his hands away and sat back on his haunches, eyeing him warily. 

A smile pulled at the edges of Noiz’ mouth as he turned onto his back. “Are you worried about me?” He crooned smugly. “Did you think I was crying? Heh, that would draw you out. You’re such a sap, always trying to comfort others, even now.”

The man flinched, the corner of his lip curling in a scowl. He made to move away, but Noiz reached for him, grasping his shoulders and urging him onto the cot.

“No, stay with me. I want you to keep me warm.”

A low growl hummed in Koujaku’s throat, but he shifted regardless, climbing onto the cot and, at the boy’s urging, laid on top of Noiz. His continued laughing was met with disapproval, but Noiz could not help himself; he attempted to stifle his laughs by biting his lip and burying his face into Koujaku’s shoulder, but he still could not stop himself. For a brief moment, his laughter turned to squealing as the man, likely fed up with his odd behavior, bit down on his neck. Koujaku held the boy firm beneath him, pressing his nails in and humming against Noiz’ neck as he dug his teeth in lightly.

“Stop it.” Noiz panted, his fit finally subsiding. “I’m not your pup.”

The man grunted, continuing to hold onto him with his teeth. 

Noiz was never one to submit to anyone and he knew that without a doubt the man was trying to subdue him. Like a master of a disobedient dog or a parent animal with a misbehaving pup, Koujaku was determined to hold him still until he had calmed and could be trusted on his own. It seemed a drastic measure for a bit of laughter, but Noiz tolerated it. Abused pride aside, he started to wonder if there was something to the methodology of forcing submission, beyond the shame factor. With Koujaku’s weight pressed into him and the man’s mouth latched snugly to the soft part of his neck, he felt controlled, but comfortable and calm at the same time. 

After a minute, Koujaku unclenched his jaw, releasing Noiz’ neck while leaving a dark red circle of teeth marks in his wake. The boy’s hand flew to the spot, rubbing his tender flesh.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, surprisingly not mad. 

The man hummed, bumping their foreheads together before curling up on his side, drawing Noiz against him. That was a much more agreeable position and one Noiz was happily willing to submit to. They stayed curled together for the remainder of the day, until dinner came and they unfurled their bodies and sit on the cold floor and eat the swill that had been brought to them.

Another day and night passed, Noiz thought as he settled onto the cot for sleep. The tedium was eating him alive. He had never been one for books or writing, but if a pencil and scrap of paper had been tossed in there with them, he would have seized the opportunity to begin penning his own novel. At least it would help him exercise the cramped, unused muscles of his mind. He was itching to code and rhyme again. A distant part of his mind wondered if he would ever do either of those things again, but he refused to dwell on that question.

He turned his gaze to the animal he was stuck with, keeping a respectful distance at the end of the cot. At least he wasn’t alone, Noiz thought. Even without being able to speak, even with the dangers around them, even with the knowledge that they may never be free again, with Koujaku there, Noiz did not feel as hopeless as he might have otherwise. He had Koujaku’s protection and affection. Those two things sustained him. 

“Koujaku.”

The man lifted his head, humming in curiosity. 

Noiz smiled, a soft, welcoming look upon his face. He was not entirely sure what he was doing and how to go about doing it, but he knew what he wanted. He opened his legs as casually as possible, hoping his intentions were clear. They were clear enough it seemed; Koujaku immediately sat up, eyes shining in interest. He crawled forward cautiously, remembering the numerous times he had attempted to be intimate only to be pushed away. 

The way the man moved, an impressive display of rolling, shifting muscle, sent a shudder down Noiz’ spine. Every day he was reminded in some fashion or another how strong Koujaku was, how pitiful he was in comparison, and how strange and humbling it was that the man chose to protect rather than destroy him. Having that strength looming over him could be intimidating, especially with the manic glint of want in the man’s eyes, but there was appeal to the notion of submitting to that raw strength.   
When Koujaku was one shift of his body away, Noiz closed his legs and flipped onto his belly before the animal could be taken aback, thinking he had been fooled. He was in a position Koujaku would appreciate more, Noiz thought, lifting his hips slightly to raise his rear invitingly. A niggling voice in the back of his mind whispered that he would be in pain soon, with no lubrication at hand. This time he would feel the pain of dry penetration and it was not going to be enchanting, eye-opening, or wonderful, as he had always imagined it would be. Without even meaning to do it, Aoba had immersed him in aversion therapy to pain and he wanted as little to do with it as possible. Pleasure, though, he could not get enough of. 

A low growl rumbled from Koujaku’s chest as he stared at the boy, taking in his raised hips and imploring expression. It was no great chore for him to subdue Noiz; had he wanted to, the man could have torn the thin boy to shreds and forced him into submission. He had done it on occasion before, when his carnal needs had to be satisfied. Yet he didn’t any longer. It was just one more sign to Noiz that the human part of his cellmate was coming out. Koujaku had always been staunchly against forcing physical contact of any sort, sexual or otherwise, on an unwilling party. When he was spurned—the few times that ever happened—the man respectfully retreated and did not bother the other party again. Even at the worst of their relationship, when he would scream at the man to leave him alone, Koujaku would scowl, grumble, and then leave him to his own devices until he was ready to speak again. Reflecting on it, Noiz realized that once they were established secretly as a couple, they never once came to blows; Koujaku had never laid a hand on him. It surprised him, when he thought of how turbulent their relationship had been. 

“Koujaku.” He whispered, biting his lip to hide his smile.

The man moved closer, craning himself over Noiz’ body so he could look into the boy’s eyes. Noiz swore the man began to purr when he pressed his palm to Koujaku’s face and tried humming his approval the way Koujaku did when pleased. 

The man slid away after nipping at his hand, moving back to Noiz’ hips and digging his nails in. The pain would not be bad, Noiz told himself. He had experienced worse by Aoba’s hands. It would be an annoyance, but hopefully one he could completely overlook at the height of things. Or perhaps it would enhance his pleasure. 

He waited, expecting Koujaku to lay his weight on his back and mount him the way he usually did. He was half-hard already, just imagining how passionately the man would ride him. There was a man inside of that creature without a doubt; two days could hardly pass before Koujaku was pawing at him, desperate to rut. It had been three days then, possibly more; every day bled together in Noiz’ mind, but he knew that it was a longer length of time than Koujaku usually waited to sate his baser needs. The man would be overeager. 

But he felt nothing. A moment later his skin tingled from the pricks of claws sinking into his flesh as the man vented him. Then nothing again. 

“Koujaku?”

The last syllable of the name caught in his throat, coming out a choked sound as he felt the man’s warm, wet tongue, press against his entrance. A curse snuck from between Noiz’ clenched teeth as he grasped the edge of the cot and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. His entire body had locked up, shaking from the intensity of the sensation. He had expected pleasure but, shit, he had not expected it to feel that good. The man continued to lap at him, unmoved by his surprised yelp and squirming. 

“Fuck, Koujaku.” He pressed his hips back, moaning loudly at each stroke of the man’s tongue. Had it always felt so good? He should have encouraged Koujaku to eat him out more often. Then again, he thought between jerks and moans, if this was how intense their foreplay was, he would likely be stunned by how amazing their actual sex was. 

His cock had come alive between his legs, fully engorged and leaking anxiously. The sensations were too much, but still he pushed his hips back into the man’s mouth. Water began to form in his eyes and he blinked it away, forcing himself to concentrate on the feel of Koujaku’s tongue lapping at his tight hole before slipping inside. 

Noiz cried out sharply, losing strength momentarily in his arms and falling onto his elbows. “Fuck!” 

It was too much, but not enough at the same time. Through the confused jumble of thoughts in his head, Noiz latched onto one concrete thought; he would definitely be fucking Koujaku’s face again and often. 

While he took a momentary rest, Koujaku took the time to sit back and lick his lips, watching the boy pant and writhe. The man was ready a second later when Noiz raised his hips again, scooting forward and crouching so that his erection peeked through the folds of his kimono. There was an awkward moment as Koujaku tried to slip in without any guidance, thrusting against the inside of Noiz’ thigh instead until the boy reached back and guided his cock. A single buck of his hips seated himself fully inside of Noiz and caused the boy to scream. 

There was a good deal of pain, as he had anticipated, but it sank to the back of his mind as Koujaku continued to buck, finding a spot inside of him that made him melt. He knew that spot well, but it had never felt so—he could not find adequate words. Wonderful, amazing, sinfully fantastic could not begin to describe the pleasures he felt, coursing along his spine as they tumbled over any pain he had felt and swallowed his senses whole. 

Koujaku was as eager as he had expected, pressing him down as he thrust erratically, seeking out a quick end. Had he control over himself, Noiz would have helped, unable to handle a long session and wanting a quick end himself. As was, he laid where he was, allowing the animal to move him as needed, little more than a limp receptacle to Koujaku’s lust. It was a role he was happy to fulfill, crying out and moaning wantonly with each snap of the man’s hips. It was too good…better than he could have imagined. The only thing that could have made it perfect—

Noiz’ mouth fell open in a silent scream, entire body going taut as he felt Koujaku release inside of him, the man’s hot cum warming and filling him. The warmth coating his insides pushed his senses beyond their breaking point and he came, a few strangled moans escaping his mouth. He continued to whine while Koujaku pulled free then ducked his head to lick at his swollen entrance. 

Too much, his mind screamed and he drew away from the man’s strong tongue. Forcing himself onto his back was a chore with his body suddenly slack and languid, but he managed. It would not be as easy for Koujaku to get at him, which had been the goal. If the man tried to mount him again that night…well, Noiz suspected he would not be conscious through a second round. He lifted his head to scrutinize Koujaku and determine if he needed to protect himself from another onslaught of physical need, but he was surprised to find that the man had sat back and looked entirely satisfied. Their gazes caught and Koujaku’s eyes brightened. 

“Don’t look so smug.” Noiz mumbled, carefully turning onto his side. “Just because you were good doesn’t mean you’ll get to do it again.”

Koujaku hummed, immediately moving to curl up at the boy’s back. He rested his hand on Noiz’ hip, drawing him close to nestle his nose into the boy’s messy hair. The chain prevented the man from wrapping his arms around him, which annoyed Noiz. He was getting greedy for human exchanges now that he could appreciate them. He wished to experience all of those gentle caresses, warm cuddles, and soft touches that Koujaku was so well versed in. Granted, they would be rougher with the man’s current state, but the animal still had a soft touch and he wanted to learn that touch, wanted it seared into his flesh until he would never forget the gentleness of the man’s touch. 

He wrapped his arm around his own middle, reaching just a bit farther so that he could lay his hand against Koujaku’s where it sat on his hip. A pleased hum rumbled against his neck as the man reacted to the touch of his hand.

This was good. He could get used to this. It was time to stop being lazy and begin their escape plan. There was more incentive now than ever to break free. It would be a monumental task, having to factor Koujaku into his calculations, but he would not leave the man behind. All of his plans for the future, beyond escape, included the man. Where it had once been an uncertainty whether their relationship would last, it was now definite. There were still safe places in the world where Aoba and Toue would not find them. They could build a happy home for themselves far away, where they would never be bothered again. All they needed was each other’s company and time to heal the gaping wounds Aoba had left upon them both. With time, Noiz knew, he could bring his lover back. That was his greatest reason to escape so the next day he turned his attention from his new senses and began plotting.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but time. Wasting it, using it, and losing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another fairly late update. This was a difficult one for some reason, but the next chapter is sounding like fun to write, so I am hopeful. Thank you for all the kind, sweet comments! Please keep them coming! Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Picking a lock was not one of Noiz' more useful skills; he could count the number of times he had used that particular talent on both hands. Number aside, the times he had used the skill were far more important than the times he had used his hacking abilities. It had been his homemade pick, after all, that had loosened the latch on his bedroom door and granted him his long awaited freedom. It had gotten him into Aoba's house and Koujaku's on multiple occasions. It had gotten him into that accursed cell. He was determined that it also get them out of the cell.

Subtly was also not an often used skill of his, but one he knew he would need to employ strategically if he wished for a positive outcome. However he managed to get into the Tower, there was no way of easily slipping out. After his appearance, the lax security had undergone a massive facelift. He hadn’t been aware of any cameras when he first slipped into the Tower, but there were at least four that he could spot from the perimeter of their cell. Then there were the guards to contend with. That would be the easiest hurdle though; the guards had a schedule that he could track. 

The following morning, Noiz had not forgotten his promise to himself: begin his plan. Step one was done: know what his goal was. Get the fuck out of there. He knew that one well, so he could move on to step two: figure out how to best achieve his goal. The rough plan was laid in his mind already; pick the lock, slip the cameras and security, make their way through the tunnel—same way he had gotten in—and then get the hell out of Platinum Jail and Midorijima and, fuck, get out of Japan while they were at it. 

That part of the plan would be trouble. Last he had heard, flights from Midorijima had been restricted. That was years ago, but he doubted that, in the wake of Toue’s regime getting stronger, anything had changed. In fact, it had probably gotten worse. A boat to the mainland then. From there, he could figure out how to get…back to Germany? 

Noiz opened his eyes, finding himself facing the wall. He could feel Koujaku’s warmth wrapped around him and the gentle puffs of the man’s breath against his neck. Koujaku was another obstacle he’d have to contend with. That was a whole other headache he would worry over later, when they were closer to freedom.

His planning could start then though. There was one lock at hand that he could easily study without too much notice or concern. His turning over roused Koujaku and the man snorted, squeezing him tightly. Noiz remember that; Koujaku loved to cuddle up when they slept. Every time he stayed the night, he woke to find himself squished in an unyielding embrace. Complaining that he wasn't a human teddy bear had done nothing to stop the man and even when he fell asleep at the far edge of the bed, practically falling off the mattress, he still woke in Koujaku's arms. At least now he could appreciate the firm hold of the man's arms and his body heat, radiating into his own small, cold body.

"Morning." He mumbled, running his hands down the man's arms. Thankfully, he didn't feel the telltale nudge of Koujaku's erection against his thigh. Perhaps he could get to work early then if he wasn't battling against the distraction of the man's interests.

Koujaku leaned in closer, sniffing at his neck before nipping him gently. Noiz supposed that was as close to a 'good morning' as he was likely to get.

“Hold still a second.” He whispered, caressing the side of the man’s face. 

The gentle touch earned him a purring hum and Koujaku obediently held still as he moved his hands to the heavy shackle around the man’s neck. The weight in and of itself was not a problem; it was the locking mechanisms he had to be mindful off. That big, ugly chain Mink had worn around his neck had looked just as heavy, but even standing a foot away from the burly man, he had been able to see what type of lock it was. It would have taken less than a minute for him to pick it, Noiz thought. The one around Koujaku’s neck was a bit different though. The lock was at the back of the man’s neck, making it impossible to discern what type it might be. 

He pulled back and eyed the man. 

“What are the chances you’ll let me get on your back without you thinking it’s time for sex?”

Koujaku stared at him blankly. 

“That’s about what I thought.”

He had to try though. The moment he began to squirm out of the animal’s arms, Koujaku was shifting, reaching to pull him back into his embrace. As per usual, his scolding did nothing, nor did his elbowing and hand swatting. If he were to guess, Noiz thought the man believed they were playing some kind of game. How that idea lodged in the animal’s head when they were not the playing type, he didn’t know, but he had to admit that he was acting more than a bit unusual. That tended to get his cellmate worked up. Koujaku did have a playful nature as well, and with that psycho Aoba keeping his distance, there wasn’t a constant threat of danger looming over their heads. There was calm. There was time to play.

Noiz shook his head, dislodging the odd thought. He would let Koujaku play—if the timing didn’t interfere with his work. He, however, had too much to do to play. But he didn’t always have a say in the matter—like right then when Koujaku pinned him down and began gnawing at his shoulder. 

“You’re impossible, old man.” Noiz sighed, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders and fiddling with the lock at the back of his neck. If he craned his body just right, he thought that he might be able to sneak a peek at it. With very little trouble, he urged Koujaku’s face into his neck, giving him a perfect angle to view the lock.

It was a small thing, which meant it would be more difficult to pick. It probably wasn’t any special type of mechanism, though. The chains and shackle didn’t look notable in any way. They were standard prison equipment. If the man had been outfitted in restraints specifically made for keeping wild beasts bound and chained, then there would be trouble, but as he flicked his nail against the lock Noiz thought they had caught a lucky break. With proper tools, he could easily take care of that.

A dark cloud descended upon the boy suddenly. He was still puzzling out how exactly he was to go about getting a tool capable of picking a lock. There would be no chance of any type of wire or metal piece happening to make its way into their cell. They were not afforded silverware when they ate. Even his piercings had been removed. Noiz understood quite suddenly why that had happened; Aoba had planned ahead. 

“Bastard.”

Koujaku nipped him again. “Shhh.”

Noiz growled, twisting the man’s hair around his finger. “Don’t you shush me, animal.” 

He was shushed again as Koujaku started to lap underneath his jaw and pull him closer. That seemed to be their routine as of late. With Noiz’ sudden dependence upon him, the man had grown incredibly fond of the boy while protecting him. Perhaps his need for Koujaku’s protection had softened him up considerably, Noiz thought. He was cognizant of the changes in his self.   
Most of them were unwanted changes and it assaulted his sense of pride to see how helpless he was at times, but there was little to do about it. At least the two of them had found common ground that they could find comfort in. 

He wrapped his arms around Koujaku’s back and pulled the man close. That translated to an invitation in the animal’s mind and immediately thereafter Koujaku was pressing down into him, jerking his hips violently. 

One round, Noiz thought as he turned onto his stomach. Just one round and then he would nonchalantly walk about the cell, gaining a better bearing of his surroundings. Find the cameras, any possible escape routes or traps, and then count the number of guards that menaced their hallway. Easy. He could afford a quick, pleasurable break.

\-------------------

Five cameras. A bit excessive in Noiz’ opinion, but it was what it was. Given Aoba’s obsession with first Koujaku and then himself, it wasn’t completely unthinkable. The freak needed to keep an eye on them at all times. It made him shudder to think what types of things the other boy might have witnessed. Well, there was no use getting embarrassed or unnerved. He had known for a long while that there was no privacy, but he had wished to keep as much of their physical encounters as possible to themselves. 

Inspecting the door lock took much less effort than he had anticipated. When first he tried to meander around the cell, tracing his hands over each bar as he passed, the guard had snapped at him to back up and then brandished his gun threateningly. He had stood his ground, staring blankly at the man. When the guard snapped at him again, Noiz had grinned and strode right to the door, slipped his hands through the bars, and ran his hand over the lock as he taunted the man. 

Nothing appeared to have changed on the lock and he could not think of any maintenance being done upon it while he had been present. That was not to say that work hadn’t been done any of the numerous times Aoba had accosted him for a day, but he decided to operate on the assumption that the lock was the same. There were not many variants he could factor into that aspect of his plan, other than the lock may have gotten slightly trickier to pick. He would see.

He had a rough idea of the level of difficulty he would have picking the locks, Noiz told himself as he plopped down on the cot. It was a lame start, but it was a start none the less. Until he could get adequate tools, he would plan the escape route in more thorough detail. That was as good a plan as any. If the opportunity arose to get a tool to liberate them, he would leap at it, but that would be a highly unlikely occurrence.

Koujaku edged closer, having perked up at Noiz’ yelling interaction with the guard. His own taunting had done little to dissuade the man from threatening him, Noiz had seen, but the second Koujaku had begun tugging at his chain and snarling wildly, the guard’s attitude changed dramatically. Of the two of them, he supposed Koujaku was the one that could do more damage. Even chained, he was a terror. 

Said terror crawled over and placed his head in the boy’s lap, crooning softly at him and curling his claws into Noiz’ thighs. Truly terrifying. 

“I’m fine.” Noiz said, glancing at the guard lingering by the cell door. 

It was interesting though, he mused; he hadn’t thought that he had any real worth to Aoba or Toue or whoever it was that held lord over them. Koujaku had use, yes, but what did he offer his captors? Another mouth to feed and a bad attitude. Yet there had obviously been some command given not to hurt him; for all the guard’s blustering and yelling, his finger never once went to the trigger, the gun was never cocked at him. So he had use. Noiz wondered what that was. Just to be a Guinea pig, or something more?

While he pondered the possibilities, he stroked his hand through the snarls of Koujaku’s hair, casually picking through the knots and mats. The man’s arms came around his middle, the chain pressing uncomfortably against his belly, but Noiz did not bother scolding or trying to move Koujaku’s arms. Sometimes, he knew, Koujaku needed comfort too. Though he had no notion what passed through the man’s head, he guessed that the current situation was as unsettling and horrid to Koujaku as it was to him.

“Nothing useful to be found yet.” He mumbled, working on a particularly stubborn snarl. “Too bad we don’t have that hair pick of yours, or whatever it was.”

Where had that gone? And the man’s sword? Confiscated, likely. Along with Beni? Had they become some sort of trophies for Aoba to cling to? Those were all precious items to Koujaku. Maybe the sword the man could have let go of, but Beni was treated like a beloved child and that hairpin held some great significance to the man. Best to consider them permanently lost, along with his own cubes, Noiz thought bitterly. From then on, it was up to him and Koujaku—mostly himself—to solve their problems. Of course, if the opportunity arose to ever retrieve the aforementioned items, he would consider taking it. Much as he tried to assert that the his dice were nothing but tools, having been bereft of them for so long had made him realize that there was some sort of attachment there. 

With a sigh, he pushed Koujaku away and lay down. Nothing to do until dinner came and he could inspect their plates. Styrofoam and paper cups were hardly useful, but he could hope that by some leap of luck the cafeteria had run out of disposable items and had to send them real plates and cups. Just a little tin cup was all he would need; he could break the handle off and warp the metal to his own needs. If he could just get it…

Koujaku settled on top of him, a blanket of human heat, and nuzzled cheek to cheek. That annoying chain made it difficult for him to grip Noiz, so he settled for resting a hand on the boy’s hip and curling the other against his stomach. Noiz pushed back into him, pressing his hand against the man’s own, sitting on his hip, and fell asleep in a haze of comfort. 

\-----------------------

Four days of scouring the corners of the cell provided Noiz with nothing for a lock pick, though he did discover the remains of his shoes. They were tight on his feet, he realized as he slipped them on and wriggled his toes about. He should have known better than to trust Japanese shoes. Of course they weren’t big enough for his feet. Kicking them aside a minute later, he took the worn laces back to the cot and plopped down with enough force to shake Koujaku awake from his mid-afternoon nap. 

The man growled softly at him as he stretched and sat up. Noiz smiled softly, imagining what the man would say, if he could speak. There would likely be some admonishment for waking him so rudely before the man asked what it was he needed. As answer to the unasked question, he dangled the neon green shoelace before the man’s eyes. Koujaku followed the swaying string with his gaze for a moment before looking at Noiz with a frown. 

“Let me do your hair.”

More staring. Though he knew that the blank gaze was due to Koujaku not comprehending his words, Noiz pretended that it was the man’s inner hairdresser coming out, aghast at the notion of letting him of all people at his hair. It was a valid fear, to be fair. Noiz knew nothing of hair styling or upkeep, but he could learn.

Without waiting for an invitation--which would never have come anyway—he scooted behind the man on the cot and tugged lightly at the locks of red hair. Koujaku craned his neck, trying to follow his movements, but with gentle nudging, he managed to get the man to face forward so he might work at his hair. The amount of trust Koujaku had for him was…humbling. Not that he could do much damage, but Noiz knew that animals that acted on instinct alone never left their backs or bellies open for attack.

“I’ll try not to mess it up.” He promised, taking a few minutes to comb his fingers through the mess of hair. 

Koujaku endured the grooming with only a grunt of discomfort when Noiz pulled too enthusiastically on a snarl. Otherwise he was quiet, sitting patiently, waiting to see what the boy would do. 

A basic braid would suffice. But he didn’t know how to weave a braid. Noiz frowned, staring at the mass of thick, red hair in his hands. It couldn’t be that hard. Three plaits, woven together, under and over. He had seen Koujaku do it once or twice.   
How hard could it be? 

As it turned out, it was near impossible. Under over, under over, had gotten confusing within the first four twists of his hands. The end result was a limp twist of hair locks that did not in any way, shape, or form resemble a braid. Koujaku would have been ashamed.

After tying the hair off with his shoelace, Noiz sat back, staring at his handiwork. “Sorry.” He murmured, pulling his knees to his chest as Koujaku finally turned.

The man took a moment to try and feel after his hair, grunting as he sorted out whether he was pleased with the change or not. After catching a glimpse of the messy tail hanging over his shoulder, Koujaku tossed his head and fixed his gaze on Noiz. Despite the messy appearance of the tail of hair, the man was apparently pleased. Nails pricked into the side of Noiz’ face as his cheeks were grabbed in a rough hold, his lips covered in an equally rough kiss. He didn’t particularly feel like his work was worth such a reward, but who was he to complain?

The man dug his nails in deeper, even as he pulled away to lick at Noiz’ lips before kissing him once more. It could have grown into more. Noiz would have happily welcomed more, save for one small thing. As he pulled Koujaku closer, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and sighing into the kiss, his eyes flicked to the cell door. Immediately, his entire body tensed and froze. Koujaku pulled away, calling the boy’s name in his guttural language. He tried butting his head against Noiz’ chest and clawing at his hips, but still the boy sat rigid and still. 

Eventually, the man turned. The growl that rumbled from his scowling maw reverberated through the entire hall and sent a shiver up Noiz’ spine. They were in agreement then; neither of them were happy. Staring back at them from outside the cell was a pair of dark, rage filled eyes, watching every move they made. Aoba was back from his long leave of absence.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something unspoken finally being heard. But no one was ready to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Descriptive violence bordering on gore. PLEASE watch out for that if you're sensitive. 
> 
> Only a few more chapters now. I would estimate no more than 5, possibly less. 
> 
> You might love me after this or hate me, but please let me know! I love your feedback! Thank you all for the comments!

Chapter 12

The circulation in his hands was almost completely cut off by the thick leather straps binding him to the chair. It was incredibly uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but Noiz knew that it was meant to be so. Though Aoba hadn't spared him many glances as they walked to the examination labs, he had seen in the few fleeting looks that passed between them that there was unprecedented rage directed at him. He was treading dangerous ground. Or, to be more accurate, being dragged through dangerous ground. Had Aoba presented him once more with the opportunity to flee, he very well might have taken it. His welcome had clearly been worn out and Noiz suspected that very soon he would face the consequences of Aoba's exception to his presence.

Tools were clattering as Aoba picked up different devices then dropped them in frustration. Something dark continued to linger in his eyes and it unnerved Noiz. He had seen various levels of madness in his days. He knew well the reserved, shame induced madness that had driven once-loving parents to shut him away in his bedroom. He knew the tragic, mental madness that plagued many of the homeless that littered Midorijima’s streets. He knew the twisted, maniacal madness of men like Virus. The madness he saw in Aoba’s eyes defied anything he had seen before. Had he had not spent months in Koujaku’s company, he would say it was an animalistic type of madness, wild and unfettered, but there was nothing animal about it. The madness that stared at him from those dead eyes was deep, human, calculating, and evil. 

Aoba turned suddenly and Noiz straightened in his seat, drawing a short breath. This would be bad, he knew. Aoba was not just pissed at him, he was unhinged. When a mad creature went even more mad, anything could happen. Silence filled the room as they stared at one another. There was a challenge in Aoba’s eyes and, against is better judgment, Noiz rose to the call.

“Where have you been?” He asked. 

“Did you enjoy your time with Koujaku?” Aoba countered with a sneer, stepping closer. There was a slim, serrated blade in his hand that worried Noiz just a little.

Noiz’ eyes flicked from the knife to the other boy’s eyes. “We had…a pleasant time.”

Aoba’s face twisted into an ugly portrait of disgust. “Pleasant? You call what you did to him pleasant?”

“What I did to him?”

“You have ruined him!”

He had ruined Koujaku? Noiz puzzled over that statement. He could not see how it was him that had ‘ruined’ Koujaku when it was Aoba’s own actions that had driven the man to madness. Perhaps Aoba didn’t have the mental capacity to take responsibility for his own actions. Perhaps there was a scrap of love within the other boy that made it impossible for him to accept that he had destroyed his childhood friend’s mind. 

…No. No, that wasn’t it, Noiz thought. Aoba knew what dark fruit his interfering in Koujaku’s mind had borne. The bastard reveled in the torture he laved upon the man’s mind. He liked Koujaku as a mindless beast. 

Ah. That’s fucked up, Noiz seethed, trying to suppress his scowl. “I didn’t ruin him, I’ve taught him to be human again.”

“That’s the problem.”

Noiz cried out in pain as the knife arced out, surprising him with a shallow cut to his cheek. He needed to shut up. Anything he said was bound to upset Aoba more. A single sound could be his downfall. The hitch of his breath could be the knell of death for him. Even his silence wasn’t enough to appease the other boy though. Aoba leaned forward, shoving the blade beneath his nose.

“Do you know what you’ve done? All I worked to make him and you’ve undone it!” The knife fell again and Noiz bit his lip, trying not to groan. “You destroyed my Koujaku!”

\--------------------

Koujaku's hands were larger than his. For a hairdresser, Noiz had expected them to be soft, smooth, and blemish free. It surprised him the first time they sat down together, their very first 'date', and he had seen upon closer inspection that the man's hands were as scarred and tattered as his own. They were so many and so deep, he had wondered how he had overlooked them before. Then again, he chided himself, it wasn't like he had so few things to do that he had ample time to stare at someone else's hands. And was it really so surprising? Koujaku was a Rib player. A Rib leader. Getting into fights was likely a daily occurrence and with so much experience under the man's belt, a few scars were to be expected.

His eyes had been drawn to the thick mass of scar tissue on the man's knuckles. "What did you do? Hit a wall?"

Koujaku had glanced at his hands, flexing them unconsciously. "Ah, no, nothing so interesting."

"Face shots?"

"Not too many, surprisingly."

That one had sailed over the man’s head.

"Excessive masturbation?"

Koujaku had narrowed his eyes, expression changing from soft and open to cold and challenging. Noiz had grinned. He knew that look. He liked that look. That looked promised that he would feel something and with his convoluted senses, pain was pleasure, so he was bound to enjoy himself either way. 

Then something unexpected had happened. Koujaku had taken in a deep breath through his nose, held it, then released it in a short puff.

"Don't be cute."

A hundred clever retorts leapt to his tongue, but Noiz chose to be polite. They were on a date, after all. Thinking of that fact had made his grin falter. There were many things Noiz did, but date was not one of them. That was a thing typical teens did. Date, hang out with friends, study in school. At least, that was what he gathered from the hushed conversations his teammates held when his back was turned. They never spoke of such trivial things to him. They hardly spoke to him at all when he wasn’t dealing information, but what did that matter? He was above all that, Noiz had thought. Still, his cheeks flushed to think of how Koujaku had approached him out of the blue, asking as casually as possible if he wished to spend some time together. Just the two of them. No Aoba. Alone. 

When no words would come, Noiz instead reached across the table and took hold of one of the man’s hands. What did those scars feel like? Koujaku’s skin? Was it soft? Dry? Warm? No matter how much he rubbed the pads of his fingers over Koujaku’s knuckles, he knew that he would never know. He did not even know what his own scars felt like. He would never share the intimacy of knowing what another’s flesh felt like…

\-----------

Koujaku’s scars were rough. When Koujaku rubbed his knuckles to Noiz face, attempting to wipe away the blood there, the boy flinched. Those hands did nothing to alleviate the burning pain in his face. In fact, the touches served only to aggravate his wounds further. Noiz groaned in pain, flinching away from Koujaku’s hands as they chipped away at a clot of blood beneath his lip. 

He was lucky, Noiz thought as he curled into a tight ball, barring the man from further access to his injuries. The assault on his face had been brutal and punishing, but it could have been far worse. Aoba’s interest was to satisfy a wild need to hurt him. Once that manic drive shifted to needing him to suffer and teach him a lesson, Noiz knew he was, for lack of a better euphemism, completely fucked. He had thought Aoba had been mad before…Noiz was worried.

Breathe, he told himself. Panicking about the potential death facing him now would not do any good. If Aoba had really wanted to kill him, the other boy would have done so. 

The lights in the hallway had dimmed, bathing the cell in shadow that shielded them from obvious view. It somehow made him feel safe. A good deal of his life had been lived in shadow. It was his comfort. 

Getting involved with Aoba had been a mistake. He should have stayed in the shadows. There had been no reason for him to reach for that strange halo of light that his once-friend had emitted. Pride. That was all it had been. And as with any good tale of hubris, his pride had seen him defeated and humiliated. That strange, undulating aura of Aoba's that had once drawn him in was now a weapon against him and one he could not properly defend against. Light, he had learned, was not always good. In retrospect, the darkness of his solitude had not been so bad.

Sleep came with great difficulty; every sound in the hall, every scrape or footstep made him jump and twist to see who might be lurking outside of their cell. Each time he shifted, Koujaku would move with him, following his gaze in confusion. Each time, the man would resettle, shushing him as if to say that there was nothing to be afraid of. If he only knew…

Noiz was beginning to suspect that the torture Aoba would lave upon him would be incomparable to what Koujaku went through. It would be much, much worse, meant to destroy more than just his mind.

\-----------------

The pain began when he woke. In fact, he woke because of the pain. Nails dug into the sensitive flesh of his scalp, wrapped around his shaggy hair, and pulled. Noiz screamed, mostly due to the surprise, but partly due to the pain. Confusion clouded his mind and for a single moment he wondered what Koujaku was doing. A moment later his back collided with the solid floor. Prying his eyes open, he saw Koujaku sitting in the corner, scowling and twitching anxiously, as if he wished to run to him. Something kept the man still, though. 

As if to confirm his suspicions, a boot heel slammed into his chest, stealing his breath. He could not muster the energy to glare so soon after waking, but Noiz was sure Aoba knew his feelings. They shared a long look, many unspoken words passing through that gaze. Finally, the other boy leaned down and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, dragging him to his feet.

“Come with me.” Aoba commanded. There was no nudge in the command that compelled him to obey, but there was no choice to disobey either. 

Koujaku whined as he began trailing after Aoba. Sparing a glance back, Noiz frowned, catching eyes with the man. There was such worry in Koujaku’s eyes, it made the boy’s stomach clench painfully. His joy at seeing such clear understanding in the man’s eyes was tempered by his knowledge of why his lover was so concerned. 

“I’ll be back.” He whispered, hoping to alleviate some of that worry. 

A slight change came into the man’s eyes, but his hallow words did nothing to alter his own mood. He hoped he would be back.

\-----------------

An eerie calm hung in the air, a feigned stillness that belied a storm to come. After the assault the prior day, a maelstrom was expected. The rage Aoba displayed had no bounds and Noiz knew that the other boy would work upon him with the fury of a tempest. The sooner it started, the sooner it would end. Waiting impatiently for the calm to break was a torture in and of itself. The silence of the room rang in Noiz' ears as he stared dejectedly at his old friend. 

Just get on with it, he pleaded silently. 

Aoba sat directly across from him, eyes flicking over the bindings that kept the boy immobile. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, which Noiz found odd. If he were to judge, it appeared as if Aoba was remorseful over something. That remorse could be aimed at him was a ludicrous idea though, so he assumed the other boy's thoughts were on the animal in its cage. 

"Why are you so obsessed with him?"

The question surprised Aoba. 

When he did not get an immediate response, Noiz pressed further. "Why do you care so much about him now; you never cared about him before. He was just your friend. You didn't even consider him your best friend; you never once referred to him as that. You scorned most of what he did and who he was. You didn't care about him like this before. So why--"

"Shut up." Aoba snapped, leaping from his seat. He slammed his hands down on Noiz' forearms and pressed with all his strength. "What do you know of our love? What do you know about me and my thoughts? I had as little to do with you as possible, you insufferable maggot. I would have never told you of my love for--"

"Love?" Noiz scoffed, gritting his teeth against the bruising force pressing down upon his arms. "You never loved Koujaku. Everyone knew that. He pined after you like an idiot, but you didn't give him the time of day."

"Shut up!" 

Even the nails digging into his flesh could not deter Noiz from carrying on. If he was going to be tortured--or worse--then he was going to make sure he had his say. Fear had never dissuaded him before. Aoba glowered at him, eyes wild and threatening. The bastard was waiting to see what else he would say, Noiz thought. Perhaps, past all the rage, there was still a boy he once knew, who had heeded his words.

“He doesn’t love you.” Noiz growled through gritted teeth. He looked into Aoba’s eyes, cognizant of his precarious position and found that he suddenly did not care. All of the anger he had built up within him shone through his eyes and if he were not mistaken, he saw Aoba flinch. “He hates you. He hasn’t loved you since the day you turned him into that monster, since the day you turned into a monster. You know that too. That’s why you left us alone for so long, isn’t it? That last memory I had, when you ripped my mind open and forced your way in, you saw us together, didn’t you? You saw Koujaku and I in his bed. You saw him kissing me. You saw him making love to me. You saw him love me and not you.”

“No!” Aoba shrieked, reeling backwards as if struck. He pulled his hands away like he had been scorched with fire, face curling in distaste. His eyes never left Noiz’ and though he appeared mortified, he continued to listen as Noiz strained against his bonds and continued to yell at him.

“It is true and you know it! You hate me because all your twisted love has done is push him to me even more. But you should know that I didn’t need your interference to win over you. He would have come to my arms, no matter what.”

“No, he never would have! Koujaku hated you! Do not ever delude yourself into thinking he didn’t!”

Noiz snorted, a misplaced grin on his lips. “He was getting over you. No matter how much he loved you once, he had stopped. You weren’t the one on his mind and in his thoughts anymore. That was me.”

A dark sense of satisfaction swelled in Noiz’ chest, seeing the look of horror that came across Aoba’s face. It was as if the very idea were unimaginable and intolerable. It would crumble the foundations of the boy’s world, Noiz knew. The fascination Aoba had for Koujaku and his sick, distorted love were what drove him. Did he even care about Toue and the domination of Midorjima? Was all of his life centered around Koujaku? That would be a cruel, ironic turn of events, if so. Noiz almost pitied his former friend.

The shock had eased off of Aoba’s face after a moment and he leaned over Noiz once more, baring his teeth in a threatening scowl. “Don’t you dare tell me that he doesn’t think of me. You can’t make me believe that. I am the only one he thinks of. Ever.”

“If he thinks of you now,” Noiz said lowly, “it’s because he wonders when the next time he’s going to be tortured is. You equal nothing but pain and misery to him. When he wants to be happy, he reaches for me.”

The rage returned to Aoba’s eyes as he slapped Noiz hard across the cheek and screamed in his face. “He does not! He would never reach for you!”

The initial shock of the blow wore off quickly and Noiz turned his head back to glower at the other boy. “I am the only one he reaches for!”

“He would never!”

“You’ve seen him do it! He always reaches for me!”

“No! Never! He hates you!”

“He loves me!”

Nothing he could have said, Noiz realized later, could have hurt or shaken Aoba more than a declaration that the man he supposedly loved not only refused and loathed his love, but loved another that he hated. Surely, Aoba was seeing then how badly his initial plan of allowing Noiz to stay in the cell had backfired. His intent, Noiz was certain, had been to torture him and test the limits of Koujaku’s beastliness. Against all of the boy’s tests, however, they had drawn closer and forged an unlikely and impossible bond. 

Noiz was as surprised at his own declaration as Aoba. As soon as the words had passed his lips, he clamped his mouth shut and swallowed thickly. His face flushed bright as he pondered what had spurred him to declare such a thing. What did he honestly know of love? Who had ever loved him in his life? His mother, who had been too afraid to stand up to his father when he had been thrown into a room with the door locked behind him? His younger brother who had known him for all of two years before his face suddenly vanished? He had no friends. He had only had his allmates. And Aoba, once upon a time, who had tried to share some sort of familial bond with him, who had tried to show him a world of feeling, acceptance, and community where he could be free and happy, if only he wanted it badly enough. 

Koujaku had hated him. Koujaku had beaten him, insulted him, and threatened him. He had thrown all of that back at the man and hated him too. Then, one day, he had caught the man staring at him differently, an odd turn to his lips and amusement in his eyes. That had caught him off guard. Very few people found him amusing and Koujaku had been the last one he expected to gaze at him fondly. Yet there it had been, clear in the man’s eyes, and, spurred by his curiosity, he had asked what the look was for. Everything took a drastic turnabout there. Their sporadic fucking quickly grew to more intimate sessions of discussion and interaction until they were no longer meaningless friends with benefits meetings. Neither of them could pin point when exactly it had turned to dating, but it was obvious that it had and neither of them commented on it. It did not matter. All that was of importance was that they were with each other and that was all they wanted. 

Koujaku had wanted to be with him. Even before all of this hell, the man had wanted him, had needed him. Aoba had been sinking to the corners of their life, where he had once been mentioned every few minutes and always on Koujaku’s mind. It was distressing, realizing then what he had not seen at the time. How was he to have known Koujaku was falling for him? How was he to realize that he had also been falling? He had never been in a real relationship before that. Everything they had done was uncharted territory. 

At least he knew it then. It made his heart shudder violently, thinking of the dreaded for letter L word, much less the man back in the cell who possessed his heart. Everything was different now. His entire world had turned upside down at his own hands.

Someone else’s hands were also eager to turn his world upside down. While his mind was elsewhere, Aoba had slowly been regaining his composure, building a strong head of indignation and righteous anger. He stared intensely at Noiz’ face, a whirlwind of dark thoughts swirling in his already dark mind.

“You think he loves you?” Aoba asked, deceptively calm and quiet. 

Noiz looked up, drawn from his silent musings by the unsettling edge to Aoba’s voice. He watched as the other boy gave him his back and began rummaging at the table of tools. 

“I can guarantee he does not. And if you need proof of how shallow his affections truly are for you, then I will gladly give it to you.”

The sight of a scalpel did not surprise Noiz, but it did alarm him. He had pushed past the limits of safe speech and he was going to pay for it. He had accepted that. There was no question of the pain he would be in: it would be excruciating. 

\------------------

It was near impossible to walk by the time Aoba was through with him, so he had to be returned to the cell in a wheelchair. He was no threat, but still they bound his hands and legs before he was transported. Noiz tried to focus on Aoba’s face as the boy pulled the wrist binding too tightly, but he could not steady his vision. Part of his sight was obscured by a fuzzy cloud, likely brought on by blood that had dripped into his one eye. The other was hopelessly swollen shut. If he were lucky, he wouldn’t lose it to infection, but at that point it was impossible to say. 

His hands and legs shook, the product of shock from a body that had endured too much pain. Aoba had worked horrid wonders on his body, but he had not done his worst, Noiz knew. He still had all his limbs intact, though his one hand was limp and useless from the wrist down and the tendons in his arm were burning fire. Most of that he could ignore. His main focus was the agonizing mix of pain and swelling in his mouth from where teeth and partial gum had been not so expertly extracted. 

Aoba stuck out his hand suddenly, displaying his new collection of teeth.

“I would take your eyes too,” Aoba said sweetly as he stroked Noiz hair patronizingly, “but I want you to keep those. I want you to see what you’ve become. I want you to see the disgust in his eyes when he looks upon you and turns away.”

Noiz worked his swollen tongue in his aching mouth, wanting desperately to retort, to have the last word, but the only sound that came out was a wet gurgle. A mouthful of blood slipped down his throat and he cringed. Aoba stood, a smile on his lips. With a flip of his hand, he dismissed them and the guards were taking him back to the cell. There was no time to think on Aoba’s prediction of how Koujaku would react amidst all the pain. If he could have spared a thought for it, he might have worried, but instead he bemoaned his pain and thanked God that his tongue had not been taken. That was a surprising charity, given how freely he had let it wag. Perhaps it had been left in so that, when Koujaku did turn away from him, he would have to retract his claims.

He was unceremoniously dumped in the cell. When they arrived, the guards hauled him from the chair and all but threw him into the cell, allowing him to crawl to the cot on his own. The obvious reason was that they would not put themselves at risk of getting within range of Koujaku’s hands, but they were not sparing any kindnesses for him. The crawl was painfully slow on cut and bleeding hands, slipping in pools of his own blood that he coughed up every few seconds. 

As soon as he had heard their approach, Koujaku had sat up in interest, eager to see Noiz again. Watching the boy come to him, inch by agonizing inch, made him fret and pull on his lead. His nose twitched from the strong scent of blood. The boy’s wounds were not overtly visible, but the trauma of them were. Blood stained the boy’s chin and throat, his hands were a crimson mess, and his knees were slowly turning red as he struggled through his own blood. 

A few feet more, Noiz told himself. If he could just get to Koujaku, he could curl up and rest. He would be safe. Getting there was battle, however, and more than once he collapsed. Had he not heard the man’s desperate whining and growling, he would have given in and stayed where he was, willing himself to bleed to death. But he heard Koujaku whimpering and calling for him. He could not torment the man like that. And if he had to die, he would rather do it in the arms of someone he…loved. 

As soon as he had crawled close enough, Koujaku grabbed him, pulling him into his lap and worrying over his wounds. He tried to bat the man away with weak hands, but his one wrist was still limp, the other nearly as useless. He tried a plea, but instead he coughed a great splotch of blood and coagulation on the man’s chest. Speech would be beyond him for several days, he saw. 

At a loss of what to do, Koujaku urged him to lie down. Noiz did so willingly, feeling wetness gather at the edges of his eyelashes. There was nothing either of them could do. All Koujaku could think to offer was the heat of his body and gentle, comforting nuzzles and soft purrs and shushes. He attempted once to clean Noiz' injuries, crouching over the boy and gently lapping at the edge of his swollen eye, but the contact brought on a screaming fit the likes of which Koujaku had never experienced before. He shied away momentarily, watching as Noiz curled his hands in his hair and tugged ruthlessly.

When next Koujaku bumped against him, Noiz almost shoved his face away, willing to risk the possibility of a sharp bite, even after what he had been through. Alas, he could not find the energy, so he allowed the man to rub against his cheek gently. Even the gentlest of movements made his abused flesh burn and ache, but there was some pleasant type of connection in the touch that soothed him just a little. He turned into the man’s arms, burying the marred side of his face into the cot. The pressure burned him, but it was only a small blip of pain in a greater orchestra of agony playing throughout the length of his body.

“Nrz.” 

A drop of something fell onto his cheek. Noiz hastily brushed it away, thinking somehow that a bit of blood had fallen there. While he was wiping the drop away, another fell. And another. His hand was getting wet. It wasn’t heavy enough to be blood, he realized, cracking his good eye open. His vision was still blurry, but even through a cloud blood, he could plainly see the water falling onto his hand. Tears. 

Noiz moved his head carefully, mindful of the damage he was done, and looked up at Koujaku’s face. The man was hunched over him, forehead pressed to his own. Trails of tears had tracked through the layers of grim on the man’s face. At first, Noiz could not comprehend what he was seeing. Human actions and reactions were still few and far between. Even months after he had first entered the cell, Koujaku acted mostly on base instinct. He was still an animal.

But animals didn’t cry, did they? His rabbits never had. Oh, they could scream and make noise, but he had never seen them cry. As far as he knew, that was an exclusively human action. Koujaku had never cried, as animal or man. Not in front of him and certainly not for him. 

If he could have, he would have reassured the man that he was fine. He would have put on his cocky, overconfident grin and teased the man about being overprotective. With his mouth a crippled disaster though, he could say nothing. Instead, he pressed his palm to the man’s cheek and rubbed away the line of tears there. Koujaku pressed his cheek into his palm, moaning softly and pitifully. 

What a sentiment! No one had ever cried for him before. Not that Noiz knew of at least. It made the tears in his own eyes grow heavy and fall. He clutched at Koujakus’ shoulders as best he could with his injured hands, clinging to him and crying for a pain far worse than the physical torment practiced on his body. No matter how hard Aoba tried, he could never make his torments worse than an empty childhood lived lovelessly in a grand, equally empty room. 

\---------------------

The trauma that had befallen is mouth was the worst pain to deal with. The shooting aches and stinging pain in his hands and wrists could be vastly overlooked if he remained still. Movement meant pain, he was quick to learn. For his mouth, however, there was no easy method of relief or, at the very least, distraction. Every inch of his mouth throbbed and holding still, remaining a motionless robot, did nothing for him. If anything, it made his jaw muscles cramp worse. It was a necessary evil then, stretching and working his jaw, which sadly tended to split his scabs and restart the bleeding. 

Koujaku was constantly back and forth at the toilet, fetching him glasses of water to clean his wounds, rinse his mouth out, and keep hydrated. To think there was a time he would have rather withered than drink that water. It was the only thing sustaining him at the moment; with his mouth in the state it was, eating was near impossible. After two days of him refusing food, Koujaku had gotten desperate and chewed a large mouthful of some meat and then forced the mashed mess down his throat. Noiz had resisted fiercely, disgusted, but his stomach was so relieved to finally receive sustenance that, an hour later, he was pushing his plate at the man and waiting for his food to be chewed and passed into his mouth.

The sustenance and hydration helped the healing process, Noiz was sure. Still, it took a fortnight before he could safely move and clench his jaw without anything popping or hurting too bad. The blood had cleared from his good eye by then and the swelling had vanished from the other, though he could still feel a massive bruise all around the socket. The worst of his hand wounds had healed by then as well, though he noted with some dismay that his one wrist was still somewhat limp and weak. Something must have been nicked, he thought. It would make picking a lock all the more difficult. 

By the grace of some god watching over them, Aoba had not tormented him more when he appeared. Or, at least, he hadn’t dragged him off for another torture session. When the other boy appeared, he always poked and prodded, jabbing at the worst of his injuries and forcing his mouth to move in awkward movements until he was spitting copious amounts of blood. 

Noiz never fussed about the rough treatment. He endured silently, wincing at the pain but otherwise remaining as unmovable as possible. He allowed Aoba to gloat over what he somehow saw as a victory. 

Let him think whatever he like, Noiz seethed inwardly. When Aoba left and the power of scrap wore off, Koujaku crawled back to him, wrapping him up and holding him comfortably all night. His ugly scars had not repelled the man one bit. If anything, it was the opposite of what Aoba had intended. No victory at all, but at the moment, he thought the other boy was merely reveling in the destruction he had wreaked. That did seem to be Aoba’s main interest those days.

Once Aoba left, he caressed his cheeks gently, massaging away the pain while clicking his tongue against the empty spots where his teeth used to be. No blood. Barely any pulling. It was mostly outward appearances then; the bruises looked far worse than he felt. Almost, he wished for a mirror. With the worst of his pain subsided, his morbid curiosity was rearing its head. He had always loved when bruises appeared on his body. The color, the strange weakness of his flesh; they were beautiful things. His eye must be positively gorgeous.

In his eyes they were at least; judging by the irritated expression Koujaku always seemed to wear when looking at him, Noiz guessed the man was far less than pleased at the signs of his abuse. Every few hours the man was holding him down, licking at the lingering gashes and clots. As if that would do anything. Sometimes it felt nice though, being pulled against the man's body before his warm tongue traced over the sensitive cuts and bruises. 

"I prefer when you wrapped me in too many bandages." He murmured as Koujaku licked the corner of his eyelid for what felt like the tenth time that day. After enduring three strong licks that left his skin prickling with saliva, he pulled away. He craned his neck to look into the man’s eyes and sneered softly. “Your eyes aren’t red anymore. Are you teasing me?” 

With all the commotion of the last few days, he hadn’t noticed, but, upon closer inspection, Noiz could see that there was hardly a trace of any blood or veins in the man’s eyes. The eyeball was white and clear and healthy. It should have been a victory for him, but he was too tired to truly appreciate what such a thing could mean in the grand scheme of things. Now if only that unnerving gold would go away. 

He brushed his thumb beneath Koujaku’s eye, remembering all the times he had looked into those eyes and recalling his fondness of the red pupils that had so easily ensnared him. Had he ever told Koujaku how much he liked his eyes? Had Koujaku ever complimented his eyes? He supposed it didn’t matter. For the amount of words that had spilled from their mouths, most of them were meaningless, uttered just to fill the void of space between them. Sound and noise, in truth, comprised very little of their relationship. Words were inconsequential to them, they were lies. The threats, the insults, the anger and blame were never real. Their real emotions, their real thoughts had been communicated in their touches, in the long, knowing looks that passed between them, and the time spent between the sheets. 

Koujaku’s gaze was soft and welcoming. It was—dare Noiz even think it—loving. All those last two weeks the man had been staring at him with that same intense, caring expression. Sitting so close, at leisure to truly take in the subtle nuances of the man’s face, Noiz was surprised to see that, with a little bit of squinting, he could easily see the man he used to know. Beneath the heavy fall of unkempt hair and through the strange coloration of his eyes, he could see Koujaku gazing back at him. 

“Oh.” He surprised himself with that realization.

He traced his fingers over the man’s face before laying his palm to his cheek. He knew that skin, that face. It was the face he loved. Finally, he felt strong enough to admit that truth to himself. A part of his soul had imploded when he had realized that he had not only aired the truth of Koujaku’s affection for him, but had incidentally revealed his own affection, which he had hid and denied with expert ease. Accepting that he loved Koujaku did not make his life any easier; in fact, if anything, it would make it more difficult, now that he was contending with Aoba’s jealousies. Still, he thought as he caressed the side of the man’s face, there was some relief lifted from his shoulders. No more lies. No more pretending. What had he to gain from further deception?   
Koujaku hummed, leaning into the boy’s palm. He squeezed Noiz gently, digging his nails in just enough to leave a wake of pink scratches on the boy’s pale skin. The tone of his touches was changing, Noiz thought. That was fine, the tone of his own thoughts were turning as well. 

Leaning forward, he gently bit the man’s ear, tugging softly with his teeth before whispering, “Would you make love to me?” That was how Koujaku always phrased it, ever the tactful one. Making love. They never ‘fucked’ or ‘screwed around’. They made love. Even when there was no love between them.

But now there was. There had been before, but now he was willing to accept and validate its presence.

His little love bite caused the man to shudder and growl. The grip on his hips turned painful. Koujaku understood the invitation and was eagerly pushing him onto his belly. 

“No, wait.” Noiz put his hand to the man’s chest, stalling him.

The refusal to turn over surprised the man, but he released his grip and sat back without further prompting. A weak smile curved Noiz’ lips as he shifted, turning onto his back and lying down. He pulled on the man’s arm. 

“Like this. Do it like this. Like how we used to.”

Koujaku eyed him warily, glancing down the length of his body. They had not had sex like that, face to face, since prior to platinum jail. It was possible the man didn’t even remember those times. Maybe he didn’t even remember what sex really was like. Maybe, in the dark, closeted recesses of the man’s mind, all he could fathom about sex was that it was a harsh, excited, sometimes brutal act.

The idea made Noiz’ mood sour and he hastily pulled Koujaku on top of him, urging the man between his legs. Claws scraped him no few times as Koujaku adjusted to this new position.

“It’s fine.” Noiz whispered encouragingly, spreading his thighs as wide as he possibly could as he pulled the man’s hips closer.   
A whimper of uncertainly hummed in Koujaku’s throat as he readjusted yet again, burying his fingers in the cot at the sides of Noiz’ head. Just like they used to, Noiz thought with a bit of hope. If he just knew how much of the man was there with him. There were several ways to find out. He chose the simplest method. 

Koujaku sat a moment, resting his weight on Noiz’ thighs while the boy took hold of his hand and brought it to his mouth. He watched curiously as Noiz examined his coarse hands. He had never taken the time to examine Koujaku’s hands before then, save that one time he had inspected the man’s scars. The scars were still there, but it was the nails that caused him some concern. 

When those sharp green eyes flicked to his, Koujaku perked up. Almost, Noiz warned him to be gentle, not to hurt, but it was a moot point and one not worth wasting breath on. Instead, he grinned his infamous impish grin and brought the man’s hand to his mouth, running the tip of the man’s finger across his bottom lip. Darkness clouded Koujakus’ eyes and a weak growl escaped his lips. The growl turned into sharp hiss when Noiz opened his mouth and took the finger in, sucking gently. Encouraged by the look of bliss on Koujaku’s face, he took in a second finger, curling his tongue around the digits before lapping at the pads of the man’s fingertips. 

Wary of the strangeness of the situation or not, Koujaku was growing excited. With his free hand, Noiz snuck beneath Koujaku’s kimono and quickly found the man’s erection. With nothing but a few skillful flicks of his tongue against fingers, the man’s cock grew to fullness in his hand. Noiz slowly pulled his hand back and slid the man’s fingers from his mouth, against a protesting sigh.

“Don’t be too eager.” He chided, taking the hand he had just been sucking on and lowering it between his legs.

There was no real way of going about it without some small bit of pain, but the stinging, stretching sensation made it more enjoyable for Noiz as he carefully worked one of the man’s fingers into his body. It took care and time, but he was able to work himself to the man’s knuckle. He rocked back onto Koujaku’s hand and the man whined, torn between wanting to lay on top of him and rut or keep his hands where they were as the boy rocked back and forth. Saliva was dripping from the corner of his mouth as he watched Noiz thrust down on his finger, face flushed and breath coming in short bursts. He tried to pull his hand away and almost achieved freedom, but just as his fingertip came free the boy pulled it back inside of him, along with the other wet digit.

They weren’t going to last much longer if he kept on working himself on Koujaku’s fingers, Noiz knew, but he wanted to be open and able to easily take everything the man had to give. He watched the man’s eyes, gauging how much longer he had, but he was pushing his own limits. Already, he could feel his muscles tense and the pressure build in his groin. 

“Okay,” he panted, pulling free, “okay, now.” 

He had thought he would have to guide Koujaku more, given the man’s hesitation to the position. Without prompting though, Koujaku crawled on top of him, hands on the side of his head again, and lowered his hips. Hardly a second later, the man was buried inside of him, sheathed to the hilt in a single smooth buck of his hips. 

Noiz threw is head back, mouth open in a strangled scream that died halfway in his throat. He dug his nails into the man’s back, pulling him closer so they were chest to chest. This was how it was, he thought. Just like before. Exactly how it was. If he shut his eyes, he could pretend that the body inside of him, tapped in the cage of his arms and legs, was the old Koujaku. The sane Koujaku. The Koujaku who teased him mercilessly on the streets and worshipped his body in the sheets. The grunting was about the same. Aside from being a bit overzealous, what was the difference? Well, there was one thing…

Before Koujaku climaxed, Noiz strained his arm, twisting his bad wrist as he grabbed for the man’s hand. Without hesitation, Koujaku threaded his fingers with the boy’s and then came with a low, strained growl. Noiz clung to the man long after they had both come, hiding his face in his shoulder. When Koujaku nudged his chin with the side of his face, he sighed and curled a hand in the man’s hair, the other still entwined with Koujaku’s.

Just like before. Just like normal.

The man’s fingers tightened around his own. Koujaku shifted suddenly, leaning down to pant against the inside of his ear. Noiz shuddered as hot breath ghosted over his skin, then again when he heard the sharp consonants of his name rolling from the man’s tongue, peeking slightly, as if he were being ask a question. 

“Yes.” He whispered, not caring what it was the man was asking. 

Koujaku hummed, mouth to the juncture of his neck. The vibrations made Noiz’ entire body spring to attention, fingers and toes curling in pleasure as the hair stood on is arms and back of his neck. The edges of the man’s teeth were tickling his skin, teasing touches that made him squirm.

“What are you doing?” He asked, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders.

Koujaku hummed again, taking a moment to suck on the skin between his teeth before sinking his teeth in as far as they could go. The pleasure shuddered to a halt as Noiz gasped and jerked. He twisted his head, trying to wrench himself away, but Koujaku held strong, teeth sunk firmly in his flesh. 

It was a tolerable pain, once the initial shock of the bite wore off. Some stinging, Noiz thought, which was surprisingly easy to overlook once the man began to suck on his flesh, drawing out the blood and cleaning it away. His focus shifted then to the irritation of pressure on his neck. Painful and annoying, but not horrid. It was like a deep rooted hickie, but sharp and poignant and meaningful. Something about this particular bite though felt so much more…satisfying. 

They stayed that way for a considerable amount of time, Koujaku poised over his body, mouth locked onto his body, teeth deep in his neck. Some exchange was happening. Noiz could sense it. The arms around him had tightened to an inescapable yet comfortable grip. The sharp tips of claws were running across the skin of his back in a soothing manner, lulling him into calmness. Blood had seeped down his collar and dripped down onto his chest and his arm, but Noiz paid it no mind. 

A watery moan slipped past his lips when Koujaku finally pulled away, half an hour or so later. The skin around the bite was tender and sore, as would be expected for such a deep wound. The gentlest of prods made the muscle sting. His probing finger was pushed away by an eager tongue, lapping at the excess blood.

What had happened, Noiz wondered. “What did you do?”

Returning his hand to his neck, he could feel how hot and swollen his skin was. It felt like a bee had stung him repeatedly in the same spot. Perhaps the tissue beneath the first few layers of flesh had been torn. Yet it didn’t feel like that type of tear-inducing pain. Just sore. 

“What did you do?” He asked again, pushing himself into the man’s arms.

Koujaku hummed into his hair, leaning down now and then to lick at the spot on his neck. Every time, Noiz would hunch his shoulders, a vibrant bolt of pain shooting through his neck, but he did not mind. Something good had happened. He was certain of it. And after all the hell he had been through, he would tolerate a bit more pain, knowing that that fleeting bother held a greater significance to him than any other moment in his life. If only he knew what it actually meant. Until he maneuvered his brain through the mysteries of his lover’s mind, he would be content with his own basic instincts telling him that all was well and he was loved and somehow he now had the tangible, inarguable proof of that fact.


	13. 13/?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps backward, one giant leap forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gosh, how long has it been since I worked a normal 9-5 day and haven't got back home at 9? I've had very long work days lately, so this took a bit of time. 
> 
> It looks like only two more chapters left. So enjoy this latest installment!

Chapter 13

Koujaku had a new favored spot to chew on when they curled up. Any part of his body was fair game for gnawing and biting; there were parts of his body that Noiz couldn’t even fathom how the man worked his teeth around. Low and behold though, he was typically sporting bite wounds on all parts of his body, even the ones not easily bitten. Now though, the man’s mouth seemed permanently fixed to the spot on his neck where he had bitten through skin and muscle days before. Noiz could not explain away the fascination; instead, the behavior bolstered his suspicions that the mark held great meaning between them. 

“What’s so special about this bite?” He asked, laying on his back with the man on top of him, nipping and sucking at the mark.

Koujaku hummed, the vibrations thrumming all the way from his shoulder, down his arm. The sensation made Noiz’ body curl and prickle in pleasure. Of more note than the man’s fascination with the bite was that, despite the intimate location, it was not apparently a sexual interest. Chest to chest, groin to groin, and yet the man had no sign of an erection. His hands had settled comfortably around Noiz’ middle and seemed content where they were. No petting, pawing, stroking, clawing…it was puzzling and even a tad disappointing.

That wouldn’t do, Noiz thought, making a face at the ceiling. He was comfortable, with the man’s warmth settled over him like a blanket, but Koujaku’s mouth was distracting. He wanted that tongue to work on other parts of his body, wanted that undivided attention upon his entirety, not just the bruised spot on his neck. 

“Hey,” he curled his hand in Koujaku’s hair and tugged gently, “kiss me.”

The teeth pulled out of his neck. Koujaku lifted his head, fixing the boy with a slightly irritated look. 

“Oh, did I distract you?” He asked, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. “What are you going to do about it?” 

The man growled softly.

“Come on, kiss me.” When Koujaku continued to stare at him, deciding upon his next action, Noiz sighed. “Just kiss me and then I’ll let you go back to sucking on my neck, geez. What’s so great about that damned spot anyway? What did you—”

His words were lost as the man’s lips crashed down upon his own, suddenly hungry for contact. After fighting a hard-on all morning, Noiz was happy to oblige the man’s interests. He opened his mouth, letting Koujaku’s long, eager tongue slip inside and run across the walls of his cheeks before wrestling with his tongue. It was near impossible to be anything put passive during the exchange; when it came to intimacy, this Koujaku was not one to relinquish his dominance. The old Koujaku had never been fond of giving up dominance either, but at least they had even exchanges during kissing and sex. On the rare occasion, he could even take over and the man would be reluctantly submissive. 

The unexpected thought brought on a wash of memories. It had been laughable at first how uncomfortable the man had gotten when he suggested that they try something new. The first time he had fingered Koujaku though, he could tell that there was some dark memory lurking in the back of the man’s mind, threatening to come forward. He had never seen anyone so uncomfortable during sex; he had even felt mildly guilty afterwards. Prodding the man for answers had not provided him much, just a name: ‘Ryuuhou’. He could get no further information and with nothing but a first name, he could find little to point him towards a possible explanation.

Don’t think about that, Noiz admonished himself. They had moved on quickly and within a number of days were back in bed together. Things had gotten better. Exponentially so; Koujaku had kissed his forehead and thanked him for his patience and understanding. The man practically worshipped him afterwards as the most understanding of lovers he had ever had. It was off-putting, in truth, and Noiz had caught himself wondering what type of sadistic assholes the man had been with before that wouldn’t or couldn’t respect someone’s discomfort. The same kind he had been with, he supposed. No wonder they had functioned surprisingly well together; they were both equal parts messed up in the same ways. Which was why they understood one another and could make the other feel that much better.

Teeth sank into his lip, drawing his attention back. 

Noiz hummed, mimicking the sound Koujaku made when pleased. “Okay, you can go back to chewing on my neck, you old weirdo.” He said, turning onto his side so the bite mark was bared. 

Almost immediately, his neck was covered, teeth sinking back into the grooves of the bite. A soft sound of discomfort slipped past Noiz’ lips, feeling his muscles protest further abuse, but he ignored the intense throbbing. If Koujaku was so happy, he would let the man have his fun. They passed the entire morning in quiet solitude, the silence broken only by the occasional slurp as Koujaku sucked on his skin. 

There was a sudden tapping on the cell bars that made them both jump.

Koujaku unclenched his jaw, raising up on his elbows to peer at who was disturbing their peace. His golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and he opened his mouth in a deep hiss, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. 

Noiz did not need to ask who was there. He shifted towards the wall, shielding himself from view with the bulk of Koujaku’s body. Aoba’s visits were growing less frequent and he rarely indulged in torture after that one explicit incident, but he always brought pain with him. Frankly, Noiz was growing tired of it. He wanted to escape, abandon Midorijima and all this nonsense for a small house somewhere in Germany, safely distanced from the terrors of Oval Tower and Toue and Aoba. 

The cell door squeaked open and the sound of footsteps echoes in Noiz’ ears. He shrank further against the wall, even as Koujaku folded himself over him, protecting him in a cage of limbs. Through the tangle of the man’s arms and legs, he could see the swishing fabric of Aoba’s robes approaching until he was but a foot away.

The other boy chuckled at the sight of them. “Are you protecting him, Koujaku?”

The man hissed again, the sound trailing into a low, threatening growl.

Aoba laughed again. “Are you afraid that I’ll hurt him? Is it so important to you that you have a warm body to sleep with?”

Noiz frowned, curling his fingers in Koujaku’s kimono. What was that? Some new explanation Aoba had constructed to explain away the man’s affection for him? After the spat they had had weeks before, he would have thought that Aoba would have faced the truth. Was he truly in such denial? If circumstances had been slightly different, he would have pitied his once-friend. 

“Move.”

There might be pain again today, Noiz thought with a thrill of panic; Aoba was using scrap. Koujaku lifted off of him and crawled from the cot to his corner. The man was growling and glaring daggers the entire time, but he sat obediently regardless of personal desire. There was nothing left to guard against Aoba’s malevolence. With a sigh, Noiz pushed himself into a sitting position, determined to meet whatever molestation was to come with a passive countenance. 

Aoba looked him over carefully, head canted. He smirked suddenly. “My, your eye is looking better. No purple at all now! Just that ugly yellow.”

Noiz fought against the urge to lift a hand and prod at the injury in question. “It was just a flesh wound.”

“Oh, is that so?”

He shrugged, turning his head to look at Koujaku. The man was breathing heavily, fangs bared. At the moment, the only violence being threatened was coming from that corner, but Noiz knew that that could change at any moment. When he heard Aoba take in a sharp breath, his back tensed. There it was. The sign of abuse to come. He turned back to Aoba, frowning, awaiting punishment for some unknown sin or unintended offense.

The boy’s eyes were locked not on his face, but at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “What is that?” He hissed. 

Noiz tried to follow the line of Aoba’s gaze with his hand and landed on the bite mark. He furrowed his brows, confused as to the boy’s reaction. “This? It’s a bite.”

“When did that happen?” Aoba snapped, temper flaring.

“The other day.”

“How?”

Just what the hell did that bite mean, Noiz wondered for the hundredth time. Koujaku treated it like an altar on his body that he had to worship at while Aoba regarded it as a travesty. He took too long to ponder the significance of the bite; Aoba repeated his question, giving his mind a shove with his powers.

Noiz grimaced, opening his mouth and blurting, “He did it after we had sex.”

He waited to see what else Aoba would ask. Surely there would be more probing questions; there always were. His friend had grown a sick sense of morbid fascination and loved to hear long, drawn out explanations of things in vivid detail. He watched the emotions dance in Aoba’s eyes, trying to decipher what they meant and how it would affect him. 

Aoba’s gaze swung to Koujaku, whose menacing growling had died to the occasional grumble in his chest. Noiz had no doubt though that if Aoba made a move towards him, he would start snapping and roaring indignantly. It seemed Aoba didn’t doubt it either. His face scrunched up into an ugly mask of offense and disgust. He scowled fiercely, the expression upon his face promising Noiz that he had not heard the last of this, and spun on his heel. 

The cell door slammed shut. Breathing suddenly became easier again and Noiz realized that he had been holding in a breath. It was a miracle. Somehow, he had managed to escape the visit without one injury. The relief was so overwhelming, his head swam and he had to hunch over and place his head between his legs. 

Scrap wore off after another minute and Koujaku grumbled, shaking his head to try and dislodge the last lingering traces of Aoba’s power from his mind. He returned to the cot, pushing Noiz onto his back and then pulling him into an embrace. 

His joy at escaping unscathed was tempered by the fact that Aoba was once more enraged and that he knew, without question, that the boy would be back again. Even the comfort of Koujaku’s arms couldn’t chase away that worry. They had to move soon. Every day was a wasted opportunity to flee, but still he had no means to pick the locks that held them prisoner. He was beginning to go mad, having a plan to escape and the will do to so the moment opportunity presented itself, but to be missing the one vital item that would allow him to proceed. The fact that any day could be the day he was tortured to his last breath added to his mounting hysteria. 

A jolt of pain in his neck made the boy cry out and spasm. Koujaku had sunk his teeth back into the marking, teasing his tense flesh with his tongue. 

Noiz grumbled, curling his fist in the man’s kimono. There was trouble all over again now because of that mark.  
“Just what did you do?” He hissed at the man. 

Koujaku hummed against him. Hardly an answer. If only he knew what it all meant, he might be able to gain a footing in this next battle of power play. 

\-----------------------------------

When next he saw Aoba, the encounter played out like a dream or some out of body experience. The boy strode in with his usual air of confidence, a train of threat and worry trailing after him. Noiz was certain today would be the day when he the rest of teeth were extracted or his eyes or tongue. He sat rigid upon the cot, awaiting the summons to the labs. But it never came. 

The boy drifted to a halt right beside him and never once spared him a glance or dirty look. Aoba stood less than foot from the cot, leaning forward to run his hands through Koujaku’s thick hair. The man growled, but the power of Scrap kept his protestations subdued. 

Aoba chuckled and the affection, the love he could hear in that laughter made Noiz want to heave. 

“Come with me, Koujaku. Today is your day. Today is for you.”

Again the man growled. By then Noiz was certain that Koujaku could not comprehend a single word said to him because a declaration such as that would have warranted a much stronger reaction. It was tantamount to telling him that he would be carted off to the slaughter house. Pain and torture were to come, but Koujaku merely growled softly, as if it were some mundane threat that he had heard a thousand times and had no interest in heeding. 

“Wait—” Noiz began, shifting so that he might put himself before the man and force himself into Aoba’s view.

It was not to be. As soon as Aoba saw him move, a spike of agony stabbed through his head, crippling him so that all he could focus upon was the sensation of his mind splitting apart. He tumbled from the cot and curled upon the floor, cradling his head until the pain ebbed and he was able to think and lift himself from the floor.

The cell was empty. Somewhere between his brain ripping apart and the veins at his temple threatening to burst, Aoba had led Koujaku off for his day of attention. What would he do to Koujaku, he wondered. Aoba was obsessed with him, so it wouldn’t be so bad, he hoped. Aoba’s love would see the man safe. …Right?

Try as he might, Noiz could not convince himself of that. Love was a difficult emotion to tackle with a healthy mind. With a broken, twisted mind like Aoba’s, love could become not only dangerous, but destructive. And he knew how Aoba loved destruction. 

For hours he sat upon the cot, deep in thought, legs curled to his chest in a weak attempt to keep warm and comfort himself. Every thought he had was with Koujaku, but very few of them were pleasant. Sometimes he managed to dredge up a warming image of him and Koujaku when they used to rumble over turf or when they were together in bed. He even recalled the time Aoba had called the man while he was busy giving Koujaku head and, for some reason he never understood, the man answered the call. That hadn’t stopped him from what he had been doing and every few seconds Koujaku had glanced at him with a knowing smirk and pet his hair appreciatively. 

“Pervert…”

They had had a good run, for the limited amount of time they had together. 

Noiz frowned suddenly, thinking of the morning after Koujaku had left for Platinum Jail. Waking alone in a stranger’s bed hadn’t been a new experience for him, it had been a sadly nostalgic experience. That morning though it had been strangely disappointing, perhaps because, somewhere internally, he could sense that they had been moving into a more stable relationship and the man’s abrupt departure had left him frighteningly vulnerable. 

Koujaku had held him so tightly he could feel the pressure and then whispered in his ear before they fell asleep, “Wait for me here.” He had feared that he would not make it back to Noiz, but he had asked anyway. 

They had both stumbled into the same trap, Noiz supposed. For all the danger they knew they were walking into, entering Platinum Jail, they were both too young and full of themselves to think that anything would truly happen to them. It had been foolish, youthful pride, thinking they were invincible. At some point, both of them had accepted that death was a possible outcome of venturing to Platinum Jail, but had either of them really believed it would happen? Noiz suspected not. They were punished then for their naivety; they were not to die it seemed, but to be tortured indefinitely. 

He had waited for Koujaku, as he had been asked. He had had no notion as to what the man and Aoba had been about or how long it might take, but he had waited. He had cleaned the apartment, done some laundry, prepared dinner—anything he could think of to occupy his time as he waited. When 8 o’clock came and Koujaku still had not returned, he took the time to clean up the kitchen and pack away dinner. When 10 came, he tore the bed apart to wash the sheets. At midnight he found himself slumped on the couch, a cup of long cold coffee in his hands. 1o’clock, 2 o’clock, 3 o’clock…he waited until dawn, but still no Koujaku. 

He waited another day, keeping himself occupied at the man’s apartment. 

He waited a week, doing everything in his ability to track where Koujaku had disappeared to, all while pretending that he didn’t actually care. 

When another week passed, he could no longer believe his self-imposed delusion that he didn’t care and he had gone after Koujaku. Waiting had been killing him. 

Just as waiting was killing him then. In his cell though, there was nothing to occupy himself with, no trivial task or hobby to half-heartedly put his time into. He was alone with his thoughts. Alone with his thoughts was never a good thing. In the past, his allmates had been his distraction or his rhyme. There was no need to think when he could throw himself head first into tracking the movements of Usei or strategizing his next Rhyme battle, inventing new attack moves or counter defenses. No dark, creeping past could force its way into his mind, for he was far too busy for such things as doubt, fear, or loneliness. 

He wallowed in those emotions then. When would Koujaku be back? Would he be back? Would Aoba cleave them apart in his jealousy, when they had only just found a safe and stable spot in their turbulent relationship? Would he be left alone again, to suffer the remainder of his life in a barren cell with no company? It terrified him to think on the possibilities. 

By the time Koujaku returned, he had gone from impatiently waiting on the cot, picking at loose threads, to pacing the cage like a manic animal. When the echo of footsteps and clinking of chain reached his ears, he ran to the cell door and forced his face against the metal, straining to catch a glimpse of whoever was coming. Aoba appeared first, a pleasant smile upon his face. There was a lead of chain dangling loosely from one hand and Koujaku trailed after, quiet and slow.

Aoba forced him away from the door with another sharp bolt of pain in his head. While Noiz was busy shaking off the pain, Aoba entered and secured Koujaku to the wall, stroking the man’s back reassuringly and murmuring loving epitaphs in his ear. There were a handful of alarming compliments peppered in with the crooning, which Noiz noted with distress. He would not ask about it though. He would not open that door for Aoba to torture them more. He would not open the door for any interaction with Aoba. He could find out on his own.

When Aoba had slunk away, sparing him no further glance, Noiz approached tentatively, worrying over the way the man’s limbs trembled and his breath came in short, excited bursts. 

“Koujaku.” He called from several feet away. 

The man growled, a low, threatening sound, but he had heard far worse in his days with the animal. The tenor of that particular growl fell into the category of annoyed, but if he pushed the wrong way, Noiz knew the man would snap. Rather than push forward, he approached and paused about two feet away, standing over the man. 

The tattoo on Koujaku’s back was blood red and looked as if it were burning into the man’s flesh. That was yet another puzzle Noiz could never get a grasp on. He could swear that the shape, design, and vividness of the tattoo altered from day to day, depending on the man’s mood. When the days were quiet and they spent their time wrapped together in bed, he could barely see the tattoo, it was so faded. Other days, when Aoba picked at them, he swore the tattoo was bright pink and the flowers covered just a tad more flesh than he recalled. And then there were days like that, days when the tattoo was red and covering parts of the man that he knew had once been bereft of ink. Not for the first time he wondered what kind of cursed marking it was that the man wore and how he had managed to live so long with it sitting beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed.

Noiz got down into a crouch, holding his knees close to his chest. “Koujaku?” 

The man lifted his head slightly and between the locks of red hair he could see the gold glint of the man’s eyes. There was red there again, which made the boy frown, thinking that Aoba had once more been meddling in Koujaku’s mind.

“Come to bed.” 

A low growl was his answer, but Noiz was not to be deterred. He stuck his hand out, expecting it to be slapped away, bitten, sniffed at—he really wasn’t sure anymore what Koujaku would do. The beast inside of him still held dominance, but it seemed to be slowly relinquishing its hold. 

After a minute of holding his hand out and receiving no reaction, Noiz gave in and sat instead. If Koujaku needed time, so be it. Time was one commodity he had ample of. He sat cross-legged before the man, not caring that the entirety of his lower body was exposed for view. Nudity had ceased to phase him and Koujaku had grown used to the site of his groin and backside. Very rarely did the mere sight of his bare body excite the man. 

To pass the time, he began speaking. Speaking to Koujaku, who he doubted understood his words, was less offensive than when he used to talk to himself, tell himself stories or jokes in an attempt to fill the void in his life. But his own voice was cold and could not fill the spaces between him and every person and thing in his life. When he spoke to Koujaku, there was a thread of connection and sometimes he was rewarded with a glimmer of comprehension in the man’s eyes. That made the effort worthwhile and any awkwardness soon disappeared.

Rather than dredge up some semi-amusing story from his past or Rhyme days, he tried to lift the dark cloud over them by speaking of what would be. He asked whether Koujaku would consider leaving Midorijima—as if there was a choice in the matter, with Toue’s regime now in place—and began describing their future home. With all his money, they could have a grand mansion in the wealthy district of Munich or Berlin, but he didn’t think that would suit either one of them. If they did go to the city, Noiz said, they would rent a classy flat where they could look out and watch the city lights each night. But that was not he wanted, so instead he began to describe a small cottage in the forests of Germany. Nothing so backwater as a town with one hotel, one cemetery, and a handful of family homes, but someplace quiet. Someplace far enough from the noise of the city, yet close enough to enjoy the delights of a real grocery store, weekend entertainment, and get his hands dirty in the cyber world. He was itching to get back into cyberspace.

“Maybe I could work for my brother.” He murmured, tilting his head back and gazing at the ceiling. He had kept tabs on Theo since he had abandoned Germany and though he hadn’t yet reached out, he knew his brother would welcome him back into his life with open arms. “I could work from home and we could just spend the days together. I don’t know how you’ll react to freedom, but I don’t imagine you’ll just go run amuck and kill and maim people. Still, we should be together. I—”

A soft touch to his hand stalled his words and he looked down to see the man’s fingers laid atop his own. It was a weak touch, hesitant almost. Noiz frowned a moment, mulling over what such a wary touch could mean. He still shouldn’t push, he told himself. Aoba hadn’t been gone all that long. The traces of his sick touch were surely still lingering. 

Rather than force the man into some embrace, Noiz drummed his fingers once so that they thumped against the man’s hand and carried on from where he had left off. “I want you to meet my family. Well, my brother and my mother. My brother is a saint, I’m sure. I don’t know if my mom still drinks as much as she did, but she was kind…in her own way. She at least tried…I remember how nice her hair smelled when she would let me sit in her lap.” He paused, deciding that was not the way he wanted the conversation to go. “I imagine I’ll have to cook the meals, unless you’re far more dexterous with your hand when they aren’t bound. No matter, I suppose. I’m sure I’m the better cook between us. I hope you like pasta. And I’m picking the clothes you wear. I don’t care how much you like your kimono; it won’t do in Germany; you’ll freeze your tits off. I’ll get you a nice red sweater with a bird on it or—”

“Nrz.”

There was a gentle pressure around his fingers as Koujaku curled his hand around his own. Noiz smiled slightly, seeing the opportunity now. With gentle prodding and coaxing, he managed to urge the man back to the cot to settle for the rest of the day. Immediately, Koujaku moved to curl around him and fussed anytime he moved. It made checking for injuries difficult, with the man whining and digging claws into him at the slightest shift, but he managed his task. As far as he could see, there was no bodily harm. Nothing externally at least. It was not a victory because that meant that Aoba had been playing inside the man’s mind and that was damage he could not fix. 

Comfort was all he could give, so he relaxed into the mattress and allowed Koujaku to latch onto his neck and suckle on the bite he had left days ago. Whatever it was the man had been looking for, he found it quickly and relaxed on top of him, the tension in his broad back loosening so suddenly it felt like a great stone had hit Noiz’ chest. 

“Seriously, what the hell is that bite?” He groused, thumping the man on the back.

“Mrn.”

Noiz turned his head slightly, surprised by what he took to be a response. “What was that?”

Koujaku pulled back from his neck a moment and stared into his eyes. There was a look of fierce determination in the man’s gaze; it was the same expression Koujaku wore before their more vigorous sessions of sex. In the many times he had seen the man wear that expression, Noiz had come to equated it with dominance and possession. 

When Koujaku repeated himself in a low, rumbling tone, he suddenly understood what those guttural consonants so poorly strung together meant. 

Mrn…Mryn..mine.

Noiz echoed the word, curling his fingers against the skin of the man’s back. Again Koujaku said it and punctuated his statement with a sharp nip to his neck. Mine, he said, and he had the mark on Noiz’ body to prove it. 

He had been marked. The realization came so suddenly upon him that Noiz wasn’t sure how he felt about it. That was no hickey, as he had originally thought, or some overzealous bite. That was a mark of possession so that all knew who he belonged to. He should be upset, Noiz thought. His body had been violated without his permission. Piercings aside, he didn’t like to have marks upon his body. There was a reason he covered much of his body and bandaged his scars so no one would see. 

He found though that he was not mad. There was an overwhelming rush of sensation in his chest, constricting his lungs. He had learned enough about typical human emotions to know that he was feeling joy. There would be no presents exchanged between them. There would be no love trinkets or rings shared. They were stuck in a place where they had only one another and in the face of an opponent determined to hurt them both, there had to be a line marked. 

He belonged to Koujaku. They were lovers. They were…mates, he supposed. Koujaku’s mark was proof of his ownership. Suddenly, Aoba’s anger made complete sense. As did another event in his past that he had never understood before.

“That’s why you peed on me, you jerk. You were marking me, even back then, weren’t you?”

Koujaku made no reply to that accusation and instead returned to his suckling at the boy’s neck. Even that old offense, Noiz couldn’t find the will to be angry at. He had known that bite was special. He knew that it was proof of the man’s affection and care, he just hadn’t known how it was proof. 

With that new reassurance sitting at the forefront of his mind, he relaxed again, pulling Koujaku on top of him as he sucked and nipped at the mark. It wasn’t until much later, after falling asleep with the man’s warmth on top of him and mouth at his neck, that he realized Koujaku had uttered another actual word.

\-----------------------------------

The following days were reminiscent of the first week in the cell, when Aoba would appear daily and take Koujaku with him for some unknown reason. Having gotten a decent look at Koujaku’s red, sore genitals the prior day, Noiz had a pretty good idea of why Aoba took the man, but there was little he could do about it, save complain, and he was in no mood to give the boy a reason to take his tongue. Complaining would do no good for anyone and would, in fact, make matters worse. 

He endured his long, lonely days as best he could. He dredged up long forgotten memories of his days inside his childhood room, waiting to hear the clack of his mother’s heels as she tiptoed to his door or the soft yet hurried thumping of Theo’s feet as he ran to the door to share his stories of his school days. He recalled a time when one of his teammates had invited him to his birthday party because he knew Noiz liked cake and he thought he was cool. He remembered playing video games with Aoba. There had been fun, once. Maybe, beneath all of his obsessive compulsion with Rhyme and being the best, there had been happiness. He was determined to get that back.

With that determination burning in his blood, he patiently waited for Aoba to return his lover, his mate, and leave before soothing away whatever terrors the boy had placed in Koujaku’s head. Each day, it grew easier to calm the man, but easier was still time consuming and exhausting. There were times he ran out of balming things to say and resorted to mushy tales of the life they would lead in Germany. Koujaku would stare at him with exhausted, red eyes, but the man heeded every word. Whenever he paused, thinking of a new chapter to add into the saga of their future, the man would nudge him gently, prodding him to continue.

So it was that when dinner came after the fifth day of Aoba taking Koujaku off to play, that the man was laying prostrate on the ground with his head in Noiz lap. Normally, they paid no attention to the guards who delivered their food; usually it was some terse man who would spit or throw an insult at them just for looking. Ignoring one another tended to be the best way to go about the feeding routine, for them and the guard. This time though something unique happened. The trays of food were shoved inside and a sharp whistle echoed in the cell.

Noiz turned his head, offended by the curt call for attention. “What?” He snapped.

The guard sneered at him then gestured to one of the trays, which was stacked high with food. Good food. Warm food, billowing steam and beautiful scents of cooked meat that he had forgotten in his long confinement. 

It was a trick. 

“What is this?” He asked, jerking his hand towards the tray.

“Not for you.” The guard answered, looking then at Koujaku and grimacing. “For the animal. From the white haired boy. Reward for being a ‘good boy’, he said.”

Noiz sneered. A trick indeed. He wondered what the catch was. Was the food poisoned? Was there a chemical injected in it that would make Koujaku crazed or desperate to ride him like an animal all night? You could never tell with Aoba. He sniffed at the tray—a whole roasted chicken—and thought that it smelled fine. He prodded at the skin of the bird and felt no strangely sharp or jagged edges. The guard yelled when he tore a small piece of meat and ate it, but he ignored the man, instead focusing on the taste of the meat. It was delicious; moist and succulent and not at all flavored with the tang of metallic chemicals. 

Putting his back to the cell door, he brought the plate over to Koujaku and pushed it beneath his nose. “Here. You need to eat and keep up your strength.”

Koujaku stared at the meal a moment, trusting it as little as he had. 

“Go on; I already tasted it. It should be fine.”

The man continued to stare uncertainly for a moment more before taking a tentative bite. He ate cautiously at first, but soon enough descended upon the food with the ravenous hunger of the beast everyone claimed he was. Any amusement Noiz had at the sight was tempered by his hunger. No matter who the food came from, he wouldn’t have minded a bit of that chicken. As was, his meal consisted of a ham sandwich made of stale bread, a packet of equally dry potatoes, and some congealed mess that might have once been peaches. It was trash, as usual. 

He should never underestimate his lover though. With his own hunger sated, Koujaku licked his lips of the copious juices that had bled from the chicken, then turned to watch Noiz shovel the mess of peaches into his mouth. He snorted, then took the remainder of the chicken, a consider amount of breast and chest cavity, and tossed it at the boy. 

Noiz stared at the meat a moment. He looked at Koujaku once, needing permission. If he started to eat, he knew that he would not stop until he had devoured every inch of that chicken and if Koujaku tried to take it away, he would fight for it. Koujaku gazed back at him, blinking slowly. Taking that as his invitation, Noiz grabbed at the chicken and tore into it with as much enthusiasm as Koujaku had. His hunger was so overwhelming in the face of a real meal that only the sharp stab of pain in his mouth could stop him from devouring the chicken whole. He paused a moment, prodding the inside of his mouth and tasting blood. He had bit into something. 

He knew it, Noiz thought as a wash of anger crested upon him. That idiot Aoba had slipped some kind of razor or needle into their food to try and kill them. Incensed, he began tearing at the meat to find the offending object. Instead of some delicate tool meant to inflict harm though he found bones. He had bit into a chicken bone. 

His initial feeling of embarrassment was tempered when a thought suddenly dawned upon him. Carefully, he pried the meat apart to gain a better view of the bones inside. Laid out in his hands were several ribs and what might have been a pelvis. Some were small and fragile, but others looked sturdy. They looked like, with enough manipulation, they could pick a lock.


	14. 14/15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: A bit of brutality
> 
> Only one more chapter left and the epilogue!

Chapter 14

Koujaku was starving. Noiz hadn’t noticed before in his preoccupation with his own hunger; the man always appeared content after his meals. Although the man always slurped up whatever slop they had been served, he had never eyed Noiz’ plate in interest or growled angrily at the guards as some indication that he needed more. Instead, he kept his complaints to himself and remained silent. But the hunger was still there; a fact Noiz discovered when he woke the next morning after their little feast to find Koujaku snacking on the chicken bones he had stashed away. He had shot up in alarm, screaming for the man to stop.

Koujaku paused with half of a rib peeking from between his lips, eyeing him in annoyance. When Noiz clambered over and snatched the remains of the bone from between his teeth, the man snarled and swiped at him. The reaction both surprised and alarmed Noiz; he fell onto his backside, staring at the man in disbelief. Koujaku had not made a move towards him in anger in quite some time. He sat mute for a time until Koujaku drew closer, eyeing the rib clutched in his hand. 

His anger flared suddenly and Noiz slapped at the hand reaching for him. “What are you, stupid? I told you not to touch these!”

The harshness of his tone was not met well. Fire burned in Koujaku’s eyes as saliva spilled from the sides of his mouth. A threatening growl rumbled in the man’s chest and he continued inching forward in a predatory crawl.

He ought to feel intimidated, Noiz knew—and he did feel somewhat intimidated—but his anger was winning out over any flight instincts he possessed, even in the face of such a monster. He allowed the man to crawl on top of him and pin him by his shoulders to the floor. A heavy drop of saliva fell onto his shoulder, but he did not flinch. He had seen Koujaku in worse states. He had endured worse manhandling from the animal and their captors. A little roughing up wouldn’t upset him. Whatever was to happen, he was determined that he would not relinquish his hold on the bone. Koujaku was not getting it.

When Noiz refused to budge, Koujaku leaned down so they were nose to nose, gazing into the boy’s eyes. 

“Do what you want.” Noiz said softly in his usual flat tone so as not to entice further abuse, if possible. “You aren’t getting these.” 

Koujaku’s lip drew back in a snarl as he bared his sharp canines. 

“You know you can’t have them.”

The animal’s eyes narrowed, nails sinking into Noiz’ shoulders. 

“You know why we need these: to get home.”

The anger vanished from the man’s face so suddenly, it took Noiz by surprise. The pressure on his shoulders lessened until Koujaku drew back completely, sitting across from him with a perturbed expression on his features. Noiz sat up slowly, hesitantly.

Another word the man knew? He had learned by then to stop considering things impossible. Every day the impossible seemed to become tangible and more than possible. Every day there was some new look or action that hinted at the human part of Koujaku’s mind awakening and reemerging. Of course, when Aoba came and dragged the man from their cell all of that progress vanished and the man returned to him a snapping beast once more, but with time he could draw the man back out. 

The burning fire had left Koujaku’s eyes as he stared at Noiz, brows furrowed and lips turned down in a frown. 

“Home?” Noiz repeated slowly, enunciating carefully and watching the man’s expression.

A light of recognition danced in the man’s eyes briefly, before his gaze settled once more on the chicken bones. His brows furrowed deeper and he lowered his head, almost whimpering in disappointment. Noiz felt an unexpected stab of guilt, hearing the pathetic sound issue from the man’s throat. They were both hungry, but they could not afford to waste a single opportunity given to them. If every other bone broke or proved inefficient, that bone he had clutched in a death grip might end up being their last hope. 

Noiz sighed, trying to hide the bone from view. “I’m sorry.”

He received no further response, verbal or nonverbal. Koujaku slunk back to his spot on the cot, hanging his head in regret. Although he knew where the stash of bones was kept beneath their mattress, he did not reach for another one. Noiz glanced at the bone in his hands, broken and now with jagged teeth marks etched into its side. It was an unappetizing snack, but in their situation, even the marrow of a bone was welcome nourishment. 

Perhaps he could do something. His resources were limited, but there was one great wellspring of wealth that he could prey upon in this particular instance. And, given time, he knew Aoba would return for the man. 

\----------------

He was given only a few seconds warning before Aoba appeared. He jumped upon hearing the approaching footsteps and hastily shoved the chicken bone beneath the mattress before rolling onto the ground and staring intently at the cell door. Koujaku eyed him from the corner, wondering over the behavior briefly before also turning his attention to the cell door. They both knew what was approaching. Noiz glanced at the man, his expression apologetic. When it came to Aoba, there was little either could do to protect the other from impending torment. 

When the boy finally appeared at the bars, Koujaku growled and turned, giving Aoba his back. 

Aoba chuckled as he unlocked the door and strode in. “What is that, Koujaku?” He asked, voice light and pleasant, as it typically was when he first entered the cell. 

Depending on what resistance he met, that mood could quickly shift. Which was why Noiz held his tongue, keeping his face forward, but watching each move the boy made out of the corner of his eye. He grit his remaining teeth as Aoba dropped to his knees before the man and coaxed him around. Koujaku was having none of it, snarling and snapping whenever he was touched and averting his eyes. 

Aoba clicked his tongue in amusement; that was not an unusual tone for the boy to use, but Noiz detected a slight note of irritation to the sound. It worried him. When Aoba started losing patience with Koujaku, what would he do? Would his twisted love protect the man or was there a point where even the love of Aoba’s life ceased to be worth looking after? Noiz truly didn’t want to find out.

With further prodding—and a bit of Scrap, Noiz was sure—Koujaku was facing Aoba. He continued to refuse to acknowledge Aoba by looking at him, but that seemed unimportant. Aoba ran his hands through the man’s hair and Noiz had to marvel at how gentle the touch appeared. The boy’s white fingers threaded through the greasy, tangled locks with ease, stroking and petting the mass at Koujaku’s neck. 

“So beautiful.” Aoba breathed, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. 

A whimper slipped past Koujaku’s lips as he turned his head this way and that, attempting to wriggle free. 

A few more loving strokes were exchanged before Aoba pulled back and stared into Koujaku’s wary eyes. 

“Come with me, Koujaku. It’s your day.”

That was his lulling phrase. His day. Noiz made a mental note of that, in case it became important later. Koujaku caught on to the phrasing as well and grimaced, lowering his gaze to the floor. His sadness and reluctance were ignored as Aoba pushed to his feet and undid the chain at the man’s neck, urging him forward with his powers. Koujaku put up no resistance. He had lost the battle; the man accepted the fact with as much dignity as an animal like him could maintain. 

Noiz waited until they were at the door before calling out, thinking it better for him to be at a safe distance when calling for attention. Neither Aoba or Koujaku turned to look at him, though they paused and the boy did glance over his shoulder to fix him with a peevish look.

“Feed him.” 

Aoba stared a moment before turning to face him, likely insulted by the thought that Noiz, a lowly prisoner, would attempt to order him about. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I heard you. What was that?”

He knew the other boy had heard him just fine; this was a test. He had to pass. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Noiz sighed and lifted his gaze, forcing on a placid, somewhat pleading expression. “Feed him. Please. He’s starving and getting weaker.”

A soft hum was all the response he received. Aoba turned and examined the man, looking him up and down. What he saw, Noiz could not guess. He might have dug them even further into a pit with his plea. It was entirely possible that Aoba liked Koujaku weak and pliable, easy to bend to his will. 

He would have to wait to find out what type of affect his words had. The two disappeared without another word and the hallway went quiet. When Koujaku was not there, the guards tended to wander off to find another task. There was nothing left to guard. What threat was he? He had no strength to bend bars and no means to cause any trouble. Had Koujaku not been there locked in that cell with him, he may have become a forgotten relic, a prisoner thrown away so as not to be a nuisance and quickly forgotten about when his threat level was minimized. He could die in that cell, starved or frozen to death. 

The worrying thought prompted him to return to the cot and fish out the bone he had been working upon. It would take some time to file the rounded nub of the bone into a sharp point, thin enough to pick a lock, but durable enough not to snap in half when it met resistance. Then of course there was the trial of concealing all of his efforts. More often than not, he was laying on his side, hunched over the edge of the cot that pressed into the concrete wall. That was the best angle to work at, with his back to the main cameras and his head and shoulders blocking the view of the other angled camera. They had to move the cot a bit away from the wall so he might work, but that was an easy feat. He would dangle his arm between the cot and the wall, pretending to be sleeping while he was secretly filing the edge of the bone against the metal of the bedframe. 

While he worked, the only thing in his mind was a desperate mantra of ‘please work’, cycling endlessly through his head as he pondered their fate if he failed. Every day things seemed to get worse. Soon, one of them would be dead, and it would likely be him. After he was dead though, it would not be long before Koujaku perished. Even if Aoba claimed to love the man, that had no bearing on Koujaku’s mind. 

They were mates. He belonged to Koujaku. Mates mourn when they lose their partner. Sometimes, the grief is so great that it speeds up their own eventual demise. He hadn’t believed it initially, but as a child, enduring countless doctor and hospital visits, he had heard stories. It was not so much dying of a broken heart as it was simply giving up the will to live, but wasn’t it the same thing in the end? 

He would not do that to Koujaku, not after all the things he had promised. He would stay by his mate’s side and not abandon him to the hell of Oval Tower and Aoba. Just a few more days, Noiz was sure. Three days. Two days to file that bone and another. A spare day to finalize and perfect his escape plan. It would be precarious, given all the variables he had to factor in, but there was only so much he could plan for in oh so many days. If they were lucky, Aoba would not interfere. 

He could only hope. 

\------------------------------------

“Your breath smells like chicken.” 

Koujaku hummed, canting his head as Noiz leaned forward and pried his mouth open, taking in a deep inhale. The man had just eaten, he could tell. There wasn’t even a vague odor of breath, just delicious chicken. His jealousy was screaming, shouting about how unfair it was that he was only fed D grade food while some animal ate from a golden platter. Of course Koujaku would be fed like a prince. He was Aoba’s pet after all. Those last thoughts did not pass through his mind kindly. 

At least the man was fed, Noiz thought, sitting back and squashing his disappointment and hunger. Aoba may not have liked that he had dared to speak about Koujaku’s wellbeing, but his plea had been taken to heart. A weak Koujaku would not be all that much fun, apparently. All the better for them. When it came time to escape, they both needed to be hearty, Koujaku especially. Though it worried him some, Noiz knew that at one point or another they would be relying on the man’s brute force to get them through obstacles. 

Best not to dwell on it at the moment. He had spent all day puzzling over various possible routes and outcomes. The longer he thought, the more wild and fanciful his ideas became. His mind needed a good rest. The entire plan could not rest though. There was still some work to be done. Hopefully the task would distract him from how hungry he was.

Koujaku grunted as he pushed away, tumbling on his side and into the same position he had held most of the day, poised over the side of the bed. Noiz groaned as the man moved with him, laying down as well with half his body draped over him. He should have expected such a thing. Koujaku was always clingy, especially when he displayed any sign of irritation. For a beast capable of rending flesh from bone, the man certainly worried over how his lover perceived him. Perhaps that was also to be expected. Koujaku didn’t have to care about Aoba, but if his mate were upset… 

“I’m not upset.”

Koujaku hummed, licking at the base of his neck. Just the sound of his voice, even and calm as ever, put the man at ease.   
So easy to tame, Noiz thought with a snort, pressing the pad of his thumb to the tip of the bone he had been preparing that day. It was tedious work, but it was paying off. Hours of careful filing had produced a blunt, narrow end that, with a bit more work, would be just what he needed. 

“When we get home,” he spoke softly as he leaned further over the cot to rub the end of the bone against the rough metal frame, “we should invest in a nice bed. A large bed, with enough room for both of us. I’m getting tired of having my ass pressed against the cold wall while you shove me against it so you can be on the cot too.”

Odd to think that only a few months ago they had both hated that cot. Koujaku would go nowhere near it, preferring instead to curl up in his corner and ignore him. In fact, Noiz realized with only a small bit of surprise, the man hadn’t started using the cot until he began making use of it. Like a dog following its master. Or, to be more accurate in their case, a hound dog fiending after a potential mate. Thank god Aoba’s experiments could only reproduce the effects of heat and not permanently inflict that torment upon him tri-monthly. If he had to try and endure Koujaku’s intense intimate attentions that often…Well, who knows what the outcome would be? Likely, he would have a torn and scarred anus, but if that was the worst of it, maybe it would have been endurable. Maybe.

Having sex on a real bed though…that was a luxury he had long since forgotten. With a sense of feeling added to the mix though he knew it would be amazing. The softness of Sherpa and velveteen blankets, the slipperiness of silk, the plushness of goose feather pillows; he might just orgasm when he hit the sheets. 

“We’re buying silk sheets.” He declared, pausing in his work to marvel over the luxury he was determined to soon have. “And goose feather pillows, and Egyptian cotton sheets, and the softest damn blankets that can be bought.” When Koujaku made a soft sound of inquiry, he kicked the man lightly. “Imagine having sex on a bed like that. I’d take anything that wasn’t concrete at this point, but I plan on spending every cent I made once we get out of here.”

What was there left to lose after all? 

For a while longer he spoke about their new home, taking pains to describe in detail the delicate makeup of their bed’s contents. Then he turned his attention to their bathroom. It would be a master bathroom, naturally, boasting a bathtub large enough to accommodate the both of them. He had never cared about the particulars of the bathroom before, but he knew that Koujaku had a particular fondness of bathing. There had been an array of hair products, soaps, and lotions lining the man’s tub. Research, Koujaku had claimed. The ladies were always asking about the best products, so naturally he had to investigate and try each one. Noiz suspected that, even if there was a grain of truth to that, the man enjoyed using the different products.

He spared a glance over his shoulder, coming nose to nose with Koujaku. The man’s hair was starting to grate on his nerves. It was no personal offense and he could care less about his own greasy locks that had grown just long enough to touch his shoulders, but he had taken a strong stance on Koujaku’s hair. In all the time that Aoba took the man, not once had he seen fit to bathe him. Stench apparently meant little to his old friend. It seemed like an insult in his eyes, to have such disrespect for a man who was once the most popular hair dresser in the city. Then again, that was old Koujaku. Aoba didn’t like old Koujaku. He loved new Koujaku, in all his greasy, stinking glory. 

“Bubble bath.”

Koujaku perked up, eyeing him intently.

“You need one. I’ll scrub you until your skin is pink and all the filth is gone. Then I’ll wash your nasty hair. If you’re really good, I’ll let you wash me too.” 

That should be fine, even with the claws. Very rarely did he get nicked, which was actually an impressive feat for how long those nails were. Koujaku appeared to have more control of his hands than he originally thought. Good. He wouldn’t mind a good, hard scrubbing of his own. Lord knew he was covered in enough dirt, blood, and cum to leave a bathtub black.

A bath then. That would be the first thing they did when they were safely in Germany. They would likely spend hours in that tub, scrubbing and cleaning one another. Or so he hoped. They had only had sex in the bath once, but it had been one of the better sexual experiences of his life. The sensations had been dull as ever, but there was tantric, erotic feel to it all as he was washed and preened over. Koujaku had worshipped his body, kissing and groping at him between each clinical cleansing and scrubbing. Imagining doing it all again, with his sense of touch…

Focus.

The first bone was almost done. Even with the itch inside of him urging him to escape that very second, to forget the second bone and just move, he knew he couldn’t They could not take that chance. He scrapped the edges of the bone’s tip with even more vigor. Another day. That was all he was giving himself. Three days would be too much. 

“Tomorrow night, Koujaku.” He whispered, taking a moment to test the durability of the edge once more. “Tomorrow night and we’re gone.”

Koujaku made no sound, merely gazed at him in speculation, a furrow between his brow. His eyes glimmered in the darkness, lit only by the weak light of the hall light, curious, but wary. It was a human expression, but Noiz determinably ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind, inquiring as to what such a look meant. 

\-----------------------

Noiz woke with a pit of pain in his belly, knotting his innards and threatening to purge him of the foul slop he had eaten last night. The sight of breakfast, an equally disgusting platter, made his stomach turn even more, but he choked down what he could. He needed to maintain his energy. 

He was just anxious, Noiz told himself. It was a strange sensation; he could not recall ever feeling so ill at ease. Well…no, that wasn’t entirely true. The night he had fled his home, abandoned his gilded cage of a room, he had felt similarly sick with worry. He had forgotten that, pushed it from his mind as he would any bad memory not worthy of being recalled or dwelled upon. Those had been dark days he wanted to move beyond. Funny how he found that his current life paralleled those early days of his youth with eerie similarity.

He checked beneath the mattress, groping for the bone he had so carefully melded. A sharp stab to his palm confirmed that it was there. The second one, which he had time only to work a bit on, was there was well, waiting for completion. There were a few other bones left, but they would be of no use. If he weren’t concerned about alerting the guards to the fact that he still had the bones, he would have given them to Koujaku to crack open and suck the marrow out of. 

There was an unrelenting itch inside of him, urging him to get to work, reminding him of his own promise that they would be leaving that night. An entire bone needed to be crafted and tested by nightfall and though he had several hours to do so, it was not always an easy business, with guards meandering around and him still trying to block the cameras from discovering what he was up to. He had to be patient. Patience was a virtue and though he had been lacking that virtue as of late, he was well versed in the art of waiting. He had waited years for the perfect opportunity to flee his cage in Germany. He could wait another hour for breakfast to be taken away and the guards to lose interest in them. 

Sensing his distress, Koujaku moved atop him, curling his arms around him and humming into his hair. Noiz grunted at the attention, wondering if—hoping that—Koujaku had understood at least some of his words the night before. If not, it would not be the worst miscommunication, or lack thereof, between them. They had functioned well enough before without fully understanding one another’s thoughts. Surely they could maintain that ability to judge the other’s actions and follow accordingly. As long as Koujaku followed…

The minutes ticked by and though he knew that it was no slower than any other day, Noiz had trouble convincing himself that no one knew of his plan. Somehow, he was certain, the guards, the security, even Aoba knew to keep a closer eye on him. They were standing watch to hinder his efforts. Another day and he would have welcomed Koujaku’s soft touches to his belly and the gentle murmur of the man’s voice as he hummed and cooed into his ear. No matter the delicate caresses and soothing sounds, Noiz could not relax. He needed to move.

Not yet. Too soon. 

He grit his teeth and turned in Koujaku’s arms, burying his head into the man’s chest. He could not get desperate. One misstep and it would be the end. There was no way to calm himself, but he could put on the casual air of indifference he usually had hanging about him. He had great practice in crafting such nonchalance. He used that talent then, keeping his mouth in an even line, restraining himself from looking about too much and tipping anyone off that he was watching. 

When the door unlocked and Aoba entered, he clenched his fists and screwed his eyelids shut, lest any emotion be lurking in his eyes. There was a stab of guilt in his gut when he heard Koujaku whimper and then shift, moving against his will, and following Aoba from the cell. He should have looked at the man and conveyed some unspoken promise that all would be well. That would not have gotten past Aoba, however. Koujaku would forgive him, Noiz was sure. When they escaped, when they made their way to their new home, all would be forgiven and hastily forgotten. 

Tomorrow.

It would all start tomorrow. They needed only to get through the night.

The power that one word held over him baffled Noiz. It was a word, a concept of something intangible that could not be touched or reasonably known, and yet he could imagine what it was, he could see in his mind’s eye how wonderful a tomorrow could be. Tomorrow had not meant anything to him since his escape from Germany. Tomorrow had always been another day, no matter where he was. Most of the time, when he had been shut away in his childhood, tomorrow was as dull and unmoving as that day or the day before. Who cared about tomorrow? Tomorrow was another day in his room, or another day wandering Midorijima, picking fights. Tomorrow was being alone and convincing himself that it did not matter nor did it bother him. 

This tomorrow though, the next day, would be different. He wouldn’t be alone. He wouldn’t be caged or ignored. It would not be dull or forlorn. He would be with his mate, on their way to safety. Tomorrow looked…beautiful. Nothing in his life had ever been beautiful before. 

When the morning guard wandered away, having lost interest when the danger had been taken from the cell, Noiz grabbed for the bone and began working with vigor. No few times did he cut himself on the sharp edge of the metal cot frame, but even the blood smearing on his hands did not stop him. When it became necessary, he would pause just long enough to wipe the blood away and then return to work. It was tedious, painful work, but he found the will to do it. 

Tomorrow. Everything would be better by tomorrow. All the blood and sweat and tears he reaped would finally be sown. The thought of tomorrow leant him the strength to grind and file and mold until, at last, he had the tool he needed. He tested it against the pad of his finger, smiling at the sharp pain he felt as the narrow tip broke flesh. 

Intangible as it was, Noiz could almost taste tomorrow. Just a bit more time. He had only to wait for the opportune moment. 

\----------------------------

There was a sweet smell of meat hanging around Koujaku when he returned. It smelled like steak this time, but Noiz had been so long from proper, rich food that he could no longer tell. The man had returned with bowed head and dragging his feet in either shame or exhaustion. Aoba said nothing, only chuckled as Koujaku immediately went to Noiz’ arms and tried to hide himself. That was hardly the state he wanted Koujaku in that night, but he wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders regardless and let him nuzzle into his shoulder. 

He turned his gaze to Aoba while the other boy was still lingering outside their cell door and took a long, hard look at the person he once called his friend. There was little there he recognized. The eyes, the hair, the skin, the voice…everything was different. Everything had changed. And that was to say nothing of the twisted, sadistic side that had been unleashed from Aoba’s inner mind. 

Was that really the boy he had fallen in love with, however briefly? Was it really Aoba? He felt a small nudge of pity for Aoba. Almost, he wished he could save him too, but some people, he knew, were beyond saving. After everything Aoba had put them through, he had no time to try and save him as well. 

Aoba held his gaze for a moment, brows furrowing as he realized that he was being studied. Still no words passed his lips. Noiz looked away quickly, feeling suddenly sad, and turned his attention to Koujaku’s hair, petting and brushing through it as a distraction. Shortly after, Aoba left. Another hour, perhaps two, and the guards would leave as well. Perhaps they left the building entirely or maybe they only moved to stand outside the door at the end of the hallway. It was another variable he had no way of knowing beforehand. Once the guards left though, the lights would dim. All sound would stop, save the hum of the electric lights. When it quieted and the lights were down, that was when they would move. 

“Not long now.” He murmured into Koujaku’s hair. 

The man made a soft sound, perhaps one of agreement or simply a sound of fatigue. Worried over the implications such tiredness might have on their plan, Noiz coaxed the man to rest. There was still a good hour or more before they could move. Let Koujaku catch a short nap he told himself; that usually helped clear the fog that Aoba’s scrap left in the man’s head. By the time he roused Koujaku next, he should be in perfect condition for their escape.

Two hours.

Two hours…

It would be the longest two hours of Noiz’ life.

\--------------------------------------

He would give Oval Tower one thing: they were clock work. Entirely predictable and easy to count on. Roughly an hour and a half after Koujaku’s return, one of the guards came up to the bars of their cage, peered in, and, when he had determined all was well and secure for the night, the entire group left. Not ten minutes later did the lights dim. No matter how it drove him mad, Noiz forced himself to remain still on the cot until he could no longer hear the sound of the guards and he was certain that they had disappeared for the night.

Koujaku lifted his head when he felt the boy sit up. He still seemed tired, but that lethargy would be quick to shake off, Noiz was sure. He leaned over the side of the cot and retrieved his bone picks. He eyed them in the dark, gaging whether they would be suitable for the task at hand. They had to be. There was no way around it. 

Now or never then, Noiz thought as his eyes flicked to Koujaku. 

The man sat up as he moved closer, holding the pick for him to see. There could be no miscommunication here. Koujaku needed to know that he meant no harm.

“I’m going to get those chains off of you now.” He whispered. 

Koujaku did not react. That seemed a good sign so, encouraged, Noiz leaned forward, intent on going for the lock at the back of the man’s neck. His movement garnered a reaction and not a pleasant one. Koujaku snarled, baring teeth, and scuttled backwards. It was a stab to Noiz’ pride, having thought that he had well-earned the man’s trust, but who could know what type of horrid images or thoughts Aoba had planted in his head that day? 

“It’s all right.” He soothed, showing the pick again. “I won’t hurt you. You know that, Koujaku. We’re going home now.”

Home. Again the man perked up, as he had the night before when Noiz had spoken of their future home. That was a concept that the man understood. He could use that, Noiz thought as he moved closer once more. This time, he reached for the man’s hands and though Koujaku growled slightly, he allowed Noiz take hold of his wrists and pull them onto his lap.

“We’re going home.” Noiz said in his low, lulling voice, retaining eye contact until the man ceased his grumbling. When the warning growls had died, he turned his full attention to the shackles. He had examined them multiple times in the days leading up to then. He had worked on such mechanisms before. Once he had those off, he prayed that Koujaku would see he was no threat. Although, there was a growing worry that the man would take the opportunity to use that freedom to throttle him.

He was pleased to find that the bone was proving to be as useful as any metal pick he had owned. The tip threatened to break now and then, but with careful precision he managed to keep it intact. Koujaku watched him intently during the entire process, sitting still as a statue. He was fascinated, Noiz thought. He knew that freedom was soon to be literally at hand. 

“When we go home,” the boy mumbled as he worked, “we can start everything over again. We’ll be safe and have a family again.” He rambled on about all the things he had spoken of before, speaking of his family that would surely welcome them with open arms, of their little cottage in the German suburbs, of their bed and their bath—anything to keep the man at ease. The more he spoke though, the more excited he became and, in his eagerness, he pressed too hard on the lock latch and felt the tip of the bone snap.

“Shit.” He breathed, pulling the pick back and scrutinizing the break. An inch was gone, leaving him with a thick, jagged end. A shiver of worry ran up his spine, but he forced himself calm. “This is why I made two. There should always be a plan B.” 

He tossed the broken bone aside and reached for the second one. The chains rattled around Koujaku’s wrists as he pulled on the man’s hands and pressed back into the lock. Something was still in there, but he easily dislodged it and continued with his work. Again he reminded himself of the need for patience. Work slowly and carefully. Just as he had when picking the window in his bedroom…It was a difficult task, but he forced himself to move slow, with as much precision and patience as humanly possible in such a situation. A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded.

The lock on the shackles clicked suddenly. Both he and Koujaku stared at the binds expectantly. When nothing happened, Noiz grasped one side of the heavy shackles and pulled it apart. To his surprise, the joints popped apart with relative ease, allowing him to slip the metal from the man’s wrist. It thunked heavily onto the mattress as he dropped it and reached for the other shackle and pried it apart as well. 

A long moment of shocked silence passed between the two of them as they stared at the dismantled shackles and Koujaku’s bare wrists. The implications such freedom meant was difficult to grasp. The man continued to hold his hands at the same awkward angle that he had been forced into by the heavy, constricting restraints. There were scars from those torturous binds, Noiz noted. The flesh of Koujaku’s wrists was red and raw, bleeding and swelling in places from an angry looking wound. It appeared the metal had constantly been scraping and cutting the man and over time the wounds had healed over one another into a mass of thick scar tissue. 

He reached for one of Koujaku’s limp hands and held it between his two smaller ones. The touch jolted Koujaku into reaction and he curled his fingers around Noiz’ hand momentarily before pulling free. What he saw next amazed Noiz and almost brought him to the verge of hopeful tears. Koujaku raised his hands towards his face so he might have a better look at his body. His face contorted briefly in a morose expression as he took in the wounds, but the expression vanished quickly. He turned his hands this way and that, flipping them to examine his palms and the ridges of scars on his wrists. When he raised his head to look at Noiz, an odd expression had settled upon his face that Noiz could not quite place. 

There was no time to dwell on it. Those hands were not ripping him apart and he had more work to do. Taking up the bone again, Noiz began to shift behind the man.

“I’m almost done. I just have to get this lock off of your neck and you’ll be free. Then I can work on the door. And when we’re done with that we can go home.”

There was a good deal more to be done between the cell door and going home, but that was of little consequence. Koujaku had slumped forward, giving him easy access to the back of his neck with no hesitation. Noiz did not speak; he had no more happy musings to share in the face of a blinding panic to finish his work and have Koujaku free. Almost done, he chanted to himself. He could taste his own freedom. 

The lock was proving difficult though. His tool was a little too narrow for that particular mechanism, but with the other bone broken and too thick to fit in, he had to make do. His own weak wrist was not helping; any time he used it excessively the muscles would begin to numb and soon he found himself with a limp limb. The cool numbness was beginning to creep in, but he was ignoring it as best as he could. 

“Just a few more minutes.” He whispered, shaking his wrist in an attempt to force the blood to flow again. 

Koujaku grunted, pulling on the chain to test the progress Noiz was making. 

He had just began his work anew when a sound he had not expected rang out in the previously silent hallway: footsteps. Hasty footsteps. Someone was approaching quickly. Multiple someones, Noiz realized as they drew closer. There was the footfall of at least three people running. There were two options then: lay down his tool and pretend that all was well and he had been doing nothing but rubbing at the man’s neck or continue to work in the hopes that he would be able to free Koujaku before the men got to their cell. 

There was really only one choice. There was no hiding what he was doing. There would be no way to conceal his actions. If they were caught now, they would be tortured, separated, or killed. He had to take his chances.

Koujaku’s back stiffened as he leaned heavily into the man, digging the bone into the lock and desperately searching for the latch. He ignored the shouts of the guards when they reached the cell. He ignored the sound of gaggling keys as he dug and dug and dug, scraping desperately at the lock . He ignored the steps running at him until his arm was grabbed in a vice grip and he was ripped from the cot and thrown to the ground. The bone flew from his hand, clattering at the foot of a guard who kicked it far out of reach. 

His plan was over then. 

The thought crashed upon him with a surprising amount of clarity, as it came between the falls of heavy blows to his sides and stomach. Even the sadness and despair that he felt was amazingly crisp in his mind. Through the haze of kicks and strikes from the butts of guns, he could still hear his thoughts. He could still hear himself screaming over the lost future. He could still hear what he thought was his heart as it tore in two upon realizing that he was soon to die. Odd that he was so cognizant of his own thoughts and emotions the pain should have been blinding, when he should have been throwing up his arms, pleading for his life. That was not his style though. 

Noiz shut his eyes, drawing in the physical pain and trying to blot out the emotional agony. More teeth were broken and no few bones as well. He started heaving and a spout of blood puddled at the side of his head. It felt warm against his cheek. If he were lucky, Noiz thought, he would die there, beaten in a animalistic frenzy rather than be murdered slowly and methodically on Aoba’s examination table. He welcomed that death. With that thought, he told himself that it was alright to give up. It was time to give in. 

His head was swimming as he let go of the last remains of his will. Euphoria began to creep in, sweet and alluring, and almost Noiz thought he was beginning to slip away. 

Then everything stopped. 

The shouting, screaming, insults that had been hurled at him came to an abrupt end. The cell was silent, save for a low, rumbling growling. Koujaku’s threatening growl; he had never heard it sound so menacing before. His eardrum must have ruptured on one side. The growling sounded so close, as if the man were right above him. Noiz forced his eyes open, wondering over the sudden halt of violence. The first thing to greet his sight was a curtain of red hair hanging limply by the side of his face. Beyond that, there was a set of arms crouched protectively over him.

No, Noiz thought, his mind moving at a sluggish pace, that isn’t right. 

He struggled onto his back, hissing and groaning in pain as his cracked bones shifted. Looking up, he found something he had not expected. That was Koujaku’s jaw. And Koujaku’s shoulder. And all the rest of him. But…how? He turned his gaze towards the man’s neck, expecting to find the collar and chain. The collar was there, hanging loosely about the man’s neck as its joints had not yet popped apart, but the chain was gone, as was the lock that had kept it attached to the back of the collar.

Had Koujaku broken the lock? It seemed the only plausible answer that Noiz could come up with in his muddled mind. The man’s sheer brute strength had snapped the lock into pieces in his wild frenzy to be free. 

He should have been able to guess such an outcome, Noiz chided himself. They all should have seen such an outcome. Koujaku’s possessiveness was nothing new or unknown. When a guard looked at him wrong, it set Koujaku off. Assault the man’s mate and it was only natural that he would react strongly. Stupid on them to have made the mistake of coming into their cell and trying to kill him then, Noiz thought with a snort of dark amusement. He lifted his hand to brush the man’s shoulder and choked on a word of encouragement, instead splattering the man in blood. 

Koujaku glanced down at him, eyes rimmed in blood and blazing in fury. The madness of a rabid animal sat in those eyes. The last straw had broken. The beats had been unleashed. Koujaku turned his gaze towards the band of guards who had retreated several paces. His growling never ceased as he eased off of his haunches and stood to his full impressive height. Unshackled as he was, claws and teeth bared in aggression, there was no denying what thought was on the man’s mind.

One of the men turned tail and made a break for the cell door. It was like setting off a hunting hound. Letting out a roar that reverberated through the entire cell and into Noiz’ ears, Koujaku advanced with the full speed and stealth that had made him one of the most famously formidable Rib leaders in all of Midorijima.

And then all Noiz saw was red.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes were red...
> 
> *WARNING: BRING TISSUES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a long, complex, emotional journey. Far longer than I ever imagined (96 pages!). It's been very interesting watching this story grow and change direction. It started out as a one shot, then was meant to be a series of smut drabbles, and then somewhere along the way plot and emotions got involved. It got deep. I poured all of my emotions into it. I am very happy with the result, truth told. It wasn't just an outlet or a fun side job, it was a real adventure for me and even cathartic in a way after some of the things that have happened to me this year. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who read this, any one who left kudos, and especially those who leave reviews and encouragements. You've made this journey so much better. You fed my muses and my ego and those kind words were what kept me going. I truly do thank you from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> I wrote what I felt was the best ending. Edited it three times to get it as right as I think it can be! 
> 
> I do hope you've all enjoyed this story and I hope to write for you all again!

Chapter 15

There were three times in their history when he and Koujaku had come to blows: the night they met, the day their teams rumbled in the alley, and the night he had unwittingly made a tasteless joke about the man’s mother. His head had cracked as it connected with a concrete wall after uttering that particular smartass comment. It was the first time that he had caught a glimpse of the monster lurking beneath the surface of Koujaku’s skin. Any time they met, no matter how docile the circumstances, he could rile the man into spitting rages, but he had not been able to predict how far that temper could reach before it broke or what type of beast it could unlock. A beating, he had expected; no one took cracks about their mother well, not even him. But he hadn’t received the thrashing he had baited the man for. Koujaku glowered, his eyes practically glowing in rage, his teeth bared as if he might snap and sink them into Noiz’ neck and rip his throat out for the insult. It had been intimidating. Not that Noiz had let on; he had grinned smugly, dangling limply in the man’s grip until Koujaku tossed him aside like trash and stormed away. 

Blood from the second impact with the wall had trickled down his forehead and obscured his vision. Through wavering vision he had watched the man stomping away. Whenever Koujaku stormed off, he always had his fists curled and his teeth set tightly. No doubt he had been clenching his jaw like a vice, fighting to keep the animal in its cage. 

Blood was obscuring Noiz’ vision then too, matting the hair that was dangling in front of his eyes and pooling in the creases of skin below his lid. There was no need to see though; the sounds were telling enough: Huffing, screaming, cries of pain. The cacophony of misery was drown out by the guttural growls of the monster that he had unleashed. It painted a vivid picture of Koujaku’s wrath. 

It was inconsequential. The sounds came to him on the heels of his consciousness fading into a roar of blood in his ears; sometimes the quivering voices were crisp and sharp, other times dim and fuzzy. Soon, the roaring overpowered all other sound and Noiz knew that he would shortly black out. Rhyme games, for all their talk of being in the head, often ended with injuries, of which he had received his fair share. Black outs were familiar territory. All that effort though, all the planning and tedious work on handcrafting escape tools, and they had not even set a foot outside of the cell. A waste. No more chances for an open field, no more chances for a warm bed, no more chances for running his hands through Koujaku’s soft, black hair and listening to the man whisper in his ear as they lay tangled together in bed, as they had done before. 

Regret swelled on his chest and he blacked out to numbing sadness. 

\---

There were weights on his eyelids that were continually pulling them shut, but Noiz fought against the urge to let them slide close and fall into slumber. Every few moments his lids would flutter as he forced himself back into alertness, his eyes straying across the bed to the body laying opposite him. Outside, the skyline was beginning to turn light blue with the coming dawn. Soon, they both knew, Koujaku would leave, although Noiz still did not know where to. The bed would be empty when he woke and he was to wait.

Koujaku was not asleep yet either, but he would not rest. It would be impossible for the man to quiet his mind enough to allow him even a brief respite. Despite their earnest lovemaking—their own unique method of parting ways--Koujaku had clearly not found relief. The lines on his face were deep, his eyes distant as he dwelled on some important matter that he refused to speak of.

“Hey.” Noiz croaked, voice thick with lethargy.

The man turned his head, brows lifted in surprise to find that he was still awake. 

“Go to sleep, Noiz. You’re tired.”

He let the urge to mutter a scathing quip slide. “When will you be back?”

A frown tugged at the edges of the Koujaku’s lips. “I can’t say, Noiz.”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” He pressed.

“I can’t say.”

“What do you want to eat when you get back?”

A beat of silence passed as the man shook his head. The small furrow in Koujaku’s brow hinted at his irritation. “Noiz, don’t start thinking about that yet. I don’t even know if I _will_ come ba—”

Suddenly, Noiz was awake, sitting up on his knees, glowering dangerously. “Shut up. Don’t you give me that, old man. You don’t say shit like that. _Ever_.” Koujaku stared at him with wide eyes, rendered speechless by the sudden venom. “You don’t plan to die. That isn’t how people live their lives. In your case, you aren’t _allowed_ to die, so keep that in your senile brain while you’re off doing whatever it is you’re going to be doing.”

“Noiz, I—”

“I said shut up; I’m talking.”

The man snapped his mouth shut.

Noiz felt his blood boiling, all traces of tiredness suddenly gone. The anger was startling to them both. At the thought of Koujaku not coming back, his chest had constricted to an almost painful point. Emotional pain he knew well and having such pain stemming from Koujaku was alarming but telling. 

With a snort of agitation, he continued, folding his arms over his chest petulantly. “You brought me into your life. I don’t know what exactly you were planning would happening, but it turned into what it did, so you have to deal with it.” The man stared at him, his face a mask, betraying nothing. “I’m going to be waiting here for your return and I expect you to come back. Know that.”

Slowly, Koujaku nodded his head, staring hard at the boy’s face. Hesitation was still etched firmly into his face, but there was a new light in his eyes that bespoke of hope. Or something akin to that…it was difficult for Noiz to read the man when he chose to shut himself off. 

They had little energy for anything beyond their little spat and soon Noiz succumbed to his need for sleep. The bed was cold and empty when he woke, as expected. Even if Koujaku had pressed a kiss to his forehead before he left, as the man tended to do, he would not have felt it. He would not have roused unless he was shaken harshly, but that would have been avoided. There had been no awkward goodbyes and no way for Koujaku to be dissuaded from whatever mission he had decided to undertake. It was better that he had slept while the man tiptoed out the door. 

The morning hours ticked by torturously slow, but it was the days following that had Noiz twisting in uncertainty. Unable to live with the mystery, he had forced himself to track the man. And when he had found him…

\------

The jostling of his body was not what roused Noiz, but the touch of warm, slick hands upon his cold flesh. Since the advent of his sense of touch, his body was hypersensitive. The fall of a lock of Koujaku’s hair onto his shoulder, the sighing of the man’s breath on his neck, the prick of claws digging into his hip—the slightest touch could ignite his body. Warmth began spreading to his arm and beneath his leg from where the man’s limbs curled about his body. He instinctively moved closer to that warmth and felt a rumble against his side. 

“Oh?” He moaned, cracking his eyes open just a slit. “Did you say something?”

Koujaku growled again, squeezing the boy to his chest. 

Whatever he was attempting to communicate, Noiz did not feel like struggling to decipher. For all that had happened, he was strangely comfortable at the moment, pressed to the man’s chest and cradled protectively. It felt safe. 

On the heels of that revelation, Noiz was reminded of _why_ he was so exhausted. His entire body throbbed and burned. Blood still dripped into his eye now and then, but it was not a steady stream, constantly clouding his vision. With the little strength he had, he turned his head to peer over the man’s shoulder, searching out the men who had assaulted him earlier. What was left of them was difficult to piece together into a full human body. There were several large meaty lumps that appeared to be torsos and lower bodies, but there were also a number of arms and ankles severed and scattered about haphazardly. He curled his hand against Koujaku’s chest, startled to realize that he was trembling.

“Did you--?”

No, there was no chance of it, he told himself. Biting a throat out or clawing out intestines was well within the realm of Koujaku’s strength, but to rend a man limb from limb required the force of a tiger. Noiz swallowed. Or some other type of wild beast. 

He glanced up, trying to read the set of the man’s face. The red hair obscured much of Koujaku’s features, but he could see deadly determination and rage in the man’s eyes, the likes of which he had not before witnessed. 

“Koujaku?” His voice shook slightly, scratching painfully from some hit he had taken in his scuffle. 

There was no gentle hum or soft growl in response. Whatever thought or intent had gotten into Koujaku’s mind, he was determined to see it out and not even Noiz would distract him. Had his head not been so muddled from the blows he had taken, the boy might have been concerned. As was, Noiz laid his head to the man’s chest and closed his eyes once more, too exhausted to care if his plan would be followed through to fruition or whether it would be met with further obstacles. Whatever the case, Koujaku seemed capable of tending to any matters that arose. If he was needed, Noiz knew that he would be roused. Koujaku could get them free and then he could get them home.

_Home_ …

The idyllic thought crested over him with a wash of peace. The gentle sway and rhythm of Koujaku’s stride lulled him into a state of near-sleep. It would be a foolish thing to do, resting after undoubtedly receiving a concussion, but Noiz didn’t care. The cell had been left behind, their keepers dealt with. Any other fool who popped up and attempted to hinder their escape would meet the same fate as the others, he was sure. The pathway was at last open to them. 

His thoughts clouded again, a confusing mix of the past and present melding together to create some odd day dreams of being locked in his room again. This time though he had company. Koujaku was there—the old Koujaku--sitting on his bed, casually flipping through a hair magazine with a cigarette dangling between his lips. On the floor, a vision of himself sprawled out on his belly, fiddling with a computer while his cubes bounced about happily. It was almost laughable how calm they both were, going about a normal routine while the door was locked, chained, and barred. There would have been no chance for escape, but neither of them appeared to care. 

The fog lifted from Noiz’ mind when the low hum of Koujaku’s gutter growl began to echo in his ears. As awareness slowly seeped in, he realized that they were no longer moving. _Outside already_? He raised his head, heart soaring in excitement, and opened his eyes to find the same narrow, dim lit hallway they had been traversing. It was not a part he immediately recognized, but after some dredging, he managed to recall when he had first broken into the tower. The red exit sign had blinked as he cautiously made his way deeper into the labyrinth, a subtle warning that he had not heeded. The bulbs had not been replaced in all that time he had been locked away. They were still blinking dully, this time though it teased and did not warn. A few more steps and freedom was at hand. A few more paces and all of the torment would be left behind. If not for one small obstacle…

Noiz curled his hand against the flesh of Koujaku’s chest, grimacing at the look of ominous intent gleaming in Aoba’s eyes. The boy’s face was otherwise expressionless, an alarming, if not telltale sign. It should have been expected that he would appear, the final hurdle to be overcome before they could once and for all leave that hellhole behind. 

Aoba stared mutely for a moment, eyes flicking here and there, taking in every detail of their bodies. He saw the blood dripping from Koujaku’s hands and marring his face, he saw the bruised and swollen injuries on Noiz’ body, he most certainly had to see the way Koujaku cradled Noiz, protecting him. The dark, accusing glare that Aoba sent him caused Noiz to shrink even closer to the man’s chest.

“Going somewhere?” 

The soft, playful lilt of Aoba’s voice sent a shiver up Noiz’ spine. Koujaku’s grip tightened and he bared his teeth. The sound that reverberated in the hall, rolling from the pit of Koujaku’s belly and between his clenched teeth was an unmistakable threat. Any wise man would have heeded such a warning. Even a hundred men would have felt their courage falter to be faced with a monster. Aoba, mad creature that he was, was not to be moved; he grinned darkly and squared his footing, standing between them and the haven of the exit. 

Noiz dropped his head, his thoughts muddled and jumbled. A plan…a plan…what kind of plan could he come up with? He was good with plans. Strategy and plotting were his strongest suits. They were his greatest skill…his one real use. What to do? What to do? No trial they had faced before could compare to the trouble Aoba could cause. There was no chance that the other boy would simply step aside and allow them to leave. Reasoning was not something Aoba did. He had no reason left, only his dark desire. What options did that leave them then? To kill Aoba? Could they even do such a thing?

Lifting his head slightly, he stole a glance at Koujaku’s pinched face, reading the aggression and derision there. The expression shocked him. All of his memories of Koujaku and Aoba together were sickly sweet, filled with laughter and smiles. Even at the height of his madness, when Aoba chained and raped his friend, the boy was always smiling and laughing. Koujaku, for his part, turned his head and sulked. Regret had always been in Koujaku’s heart. Even an animal, it appeared, could be remorseful. But only for so long. Any tears Koujaku had shed for his friend were dried and replaced with contempt. He too, Noiz saw, would do anything to be free, including killing Aoba.

Of course they could do it. Noiz made the dark determination, crushing his own limited remorse. There were still sores in his mouth from the teeth so crudely extracted. There were numerous marks on his body and on Koujaku’s, telltale signs of the havoc their once-friend had wreaked upon them for the sake of his own amusement and joy. Killing him, Noiz came to the conclusion, would be not only a plausible plan, but perhaps a cathartic one as well.

The hall echoed suddenly with Aoba’s dark laughter. The sound pulled another threatening growl from Koujaku before the man stooped and gently deposited Noiz against the wall. His eyes grew wide for a moment as he was tenderly placed aside. A moment later, he noticed the glint of a knife in the man’s hand, shining in the red gleam of the exit sign. It looked distinctly like the knives the guards carried on them, the same ones the men would tauntingly flash at them as they pried their food apart with their bare hands or threatened them with when they made too much noise in their cage. Had Koujaku stolen one? Two, he realized; the man held a knife in each hand, positioned in what appeared to be a fighting stance. 

Pushing aside his absolute shock to see the man poised in a battle stance, Noiz could barely breathe as he assessed the situation. Would Koujaku do it? _Could_ he do it? It was all well and good to think it, but could the man actually _do_ it? Had Koujaku hesitated to take up a weapon a second longer, he would have made the ugly suggestion of ending Aoba himself; that the man had come to the conclusion himself, that he knew Aoba had to be defeated and dealt with once and for all, was revealing. If this half-man, half-beast recognized that Aoba was a threat that needed to be terminated, then there was no question of turning back; there was no more hope of saving Aoba or of preserving the blissful memories they had of the past. There would be blood now. 

Aoba’s brow raised a slight degree as Koujaku dug his feet into the ground and snarled. The man’s knuckles turned white from the grip on his blades and for once Noiz was confident that they were on the winning side of a fight. No one could defeat Koujaku’s rage. 

A gargled, choked sound bubbled in his throat. He could not help himself. He had to release his bitter laugh. When Aoba glanced at him, he laughed again. “You can die happy now.” He grinned. “You’ll get what you want; Koujaku is going to tear you to pieces.”

Golden eyes narrowed on him. “Is that so? You think my Koujaku will kill me?”

“Not your Koujaku. Mine.”

A blade of agony speared his mind and he slammed against the wall, rocking his head against the concrete. The pain was familiar, much like the assault in the laboratory, when he was first granted his sense of touch. The fabric of his mind tore open again, as it had that day, and a flood of memories spilled forth. Unlike before, there was no discerning, sentient hand guiding the flow, picking through his memories and alighting on ones that it wished view. His brain was a gushing wound, bleeding memories so quickly and thickly that he was drowning in them. His mother, his first accident, the kindly old maid who brought him food, his first rhyme match, the last night they had sex…Everything was a jumble and every sense was exploding in over-stimulation. 

It was only when the pain came to an abrupt halt that he realized he had been screaming. Fire burned in his throat and chest as he gasped, sucking in mouthfuls of air. Through watery eyes, he managed to catch a glimpse of Koujaku cutting through the air with his appropriated blade. Specks of red splattered the wall beside him. A shower of crimson mist fell on the man’s face and he leapt backwards. 

Had he held a scrap of sympathy, Noiz was cognizant enough to know that he should have felt regret that it had come to such dire measures. It was a true tragedy; best friends pitted against one another in a duel to the death. That knowledge did not stem the absolute mirth he felt upon seeing Aoba stagger backwards, hand clutching at a gaping red wound on his chest. 

“Now!” He cried, surprising both himself and Koujaku. The man turned to stare at him, the firm set of his face faltering upon hearing his voice. “Kill him now! You won’t get a second chance! We have to go home!”

Where had this bloodlust come from? He did not care. Noiz slammed his fists on the ground, cringing at the pain he caused, but he continued screaming his murderous encouragement. There was one chance, no room for failure, and he would be damned if Aoba stole their future from them again. 

Koujaku narrowed his eyes; there was nothing so obvious as a nod or a grunt of concurrence, but he squared off again and brandished his blades. One step forward and his knife was raised, aimed towards the hollow of Aoba’s neck. A quick, deep cut and it would all be over. One more body. One more felled obstacle. 

The blade never met its target. There was not a single drop of blood. Koujaku never got close enough to even graze the boy’s pale white skin. Two steps forward and he halted as if he had slammed into a wall. The man’s spine straightened painfully, arms contorting to his sides. Veins bulged in the straining muscles of his arms until the blades clattered to the ground, joined a second later by the man’s twitching body. Torturous, animalistic grunts and cries bounced off the narrow walls, vibrating down the corridors as Koujaku convulsed. Noiz had to clamp his hands over his ears upon hearing the first shriek; the sound dug into his head and burned itself there in mind. 

When he was able to stomach the cries, he scuttled on his hands and knees to the man, frantically pressing down on Koujaku’s shoulders to keep him still. Every seizure that wracked Koujaku’s body nearly dislodged him, but Noiz was determined. When the pressure of his hands was not enough, he swung his leg over the man’s body and sat on his chest. 

He threw a venomous glare over his shoulder as he dug his nails into Koujaku’s shoulders to pin him. “What did you do?!”

“You told him to kill me.” Aoba countered the question, his voice and face passive and lifeless. 

Noiz screamed in frustration, whipping his head back to stare at Koujaku in mounting horror. Was Aoba still using Scrap? Had the boy forced his way into the man’s mind and ripped it open, as he had done to him minutes before? No other force could be blamed for this. Only the power of Scrap could reduce a man to a puddle of writhing agony. He grabbed Koujaku’s face, watching the man’s lids flutter and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Stop it!” 

Footsteps approached. “He _listened_ to you.”

Again Noiz glanced at the other boy, his back tensing as he saw Aoba grow closer and closer. Another few steps and the other boy was at Koujaku’s side, peering down with feigned interest. Droplets of blood fell onto Koujaku’s cheek and Noiz hastily wiped them away. Stealing another glance, he could see that there was some emotion lingering in Aoba’s eyes. The not-quite-sane look was back, heralding any number of things, none of them good. The boy’s golden gaze fixated upon Koujaku, garbling wetly as he choked on his own gasping breath. 

“You are so stupid.” Aoba drawled, gazing down at the man. “Did you think you could control him? Did you think he was just a docile dog, salivating at your feet, jumping to do your bidding, as if you were his master? You’re as stupid as those brainless women who used to flock to him, thinking that they meant something to him.” He laughed bitterly and kicked at Koujaku’s shoulder. “That man is a monster. You were an idiot to think you had tamed him. Oh, he would gladly jump on top of you to fuck, like any man desperate for a ride. If he ever obeyed you, that was the only reason.”

It was difficult for Noiz to concentrate on the words Aoba spoke as he desperately tried to hold Koujaku still. Flipping frantically through his banks of memory, he desperately pulled forth any plan he could. One by one, he discarded them. He would not leave Koujaku to die. They would go together or not at all. He would not live with the shame of fleeing like a coward as his lover died a slow, torturous death after months of torture. Death would come then, in the form of their once- loved friend. 

Noiz flinched when Aoba dropped down to a crouch at his side, peering at him with a mocking smile. “Koujaku is a monster.” He hissed. “Did you really think that I kept him chained as he was, with legs and arms bound like a beast simply because it amused me? Koujaku is not only a monster; he is a murderer. He has slaughtered _many_ in his rage. He is no animal, lapping at your feet. He took up his sword and killed his own mother like some berserk shogun. A perfect, reasonless being. His own mother…and then the entire household. Twenty five people, all ruthlessly cut down by that beast. Now, does that seem like a passive pet to you? Did you really think that he would live the rest of his life quietly with you, whimpering at your feet and salivating for your attention? Idiot.”

Koujaku gasped suddenly, blank eyes bulging and back arching against an invisible onslaught. 

“Please, stop!” Noiz screamed, pressing his fingers into the man’s face so hard that he dug crevices in his skin with the force of his nails. He had never begged for anything in his life, but the words spilled from his tongue effortlessly, babbling forth in an incomprehensible stream. 

“He tried to kill me. You told him to kill me and he listened.” Aoba repeated his earlier statement, voice hitching on an angry note as if he was suddenly reminded of the offense. 

“Aoba, stop!”

“He tried to kill me! You told him to and he listened!”

“Can’t you see that you’re hurting him?! You’re hurting Koujaku!”

Something snapped in the other boy’s eyes; his face contorted into an ugly snarl as he shot to his feet. “What do I care?! He tried to kill me! This isn’t my Koujaku! My Koujaku would never harm me! My Koujaku loves me! My Koujaku would never try to leave me! He wanted to be with me forever!”

Noiz could not refute that claim. The way that Koujaku stared at Aoba with half lidded eyes, a coy smile curving his lips as they spoke…it had been all the sign he needed of Koujaku’s infatuation. That was to speak nothing of the laughter that he heard on their coil calls or the nudging and subtle touching exchanged between the pair when they all meet. No one could overlook that. Had he been given the opportunity, Koujaku would have leapt at the chance to live forever with Aoba, bowing at the boy’s feet and kissing the very dirt he walked upon. 

Aoba was right…his Koujaku never would have desired to leave him. 

A tear dropped onto Koujaku’s cheek. Noiz stared at it a moment before wiping it away and then running the back of his hand against his moist eyes. 

But Aoba had not wanted Koujaku. Aoba chose to remain blissfully ignorant of his friend’s amour. Those subtle touches and half-lidded glances had then turned quite suddenly on _him_. Noiz had been quite at a loss. The air between them changed. What he wouldn’t sacrifice to know the feeling of the man’s hand ghosting over the small of his back or over his thigh, as he knew Koujaku had done hundreds of times before. 

“He’s not your Koujaku,” Noiz sniffled loudly, pressing his hands firmly to Koujaku’s cheeks, “and this is not what Koujaku wanted.”

When first he had noticed those small smiles and coy looks directed at him, he had sneered and mocked the man. His resolve was weak in the face of his own interest though. Only a week after he had caught the man staring beneath his lashes, trying to hide his appreciative glance, he had hacked into Koujaku’s coil, only to be told that he could have simply asked for the number. Then sex had happened. And then dating. Perhaps not the most desired order of things, but he was not one to complain. They were making their way down a rocky path, but they were traversing it surprisingly well and had every intention of maintaining their course together. 

But then all of this had happened. Koujaku had left him with an empty bed full of unspoken words. One thing that Noiz did not need to hear was how deeply enamored the man was. It was a mutual infatuation, they both knew. 

“You don’t know what Koujaku wants.” Aoba broke through his reverie, his voice suddenly weak and wavering.

The odd change in the boy’s demeanor drew Noiz’ attention. “You think he would want this?” He scoffed and glanced at the tight quarters they were in. “You think that man, that strong, independent, and prideful man would want to be chained in a dungeon, beaten and abused like an animal? You think Koujaku wanted to _be_ an animal? Look at what you did to him, Aoba! You destroyed him, just like you wanted! This is not what _Koujaku_ wanted!” 

He had nothing left now. There was nothing to gain and nothing to lose; all he had were his crushed hopes and his certainty that Koujaku would have never, in any life, wished to be Aoba’s slave. Let Aoba have that knowledge as well; he seemed in dire need of an awakening from his delusional beliefs. 

“He would never want this.”

Aoba shrieked, a shrill, blood chilling sound that made Noiz hunch over instinctually, lest he be attacked. He watched from beneath the fall of his hair as Aoba fisted his hands in his long mane of hair and tug until clumps of it were pulled free. 

“What do you know?! What do either of you know?! Neither of you know what Koujaku wants! _I_ know what Koujaku wants! Koujaku wants _me_!”

_This is it_ , Noiz thought with muted distress; Aoba had finally gone mad. “Who are you talking to, Aoba?”

“Shut up! Both of you shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“There’s no one else here, Aoba.”

“I said shut up!”

Noiz closed his mouth. His shoulders sagged, his last shred of adrenaline fueled energy depleted. With a shake of his head, he turned back to Koujaku, still twitching and sputtering as his mind crumbled beneath the weight of a Scrap attack. He had watched the door to his bedroom close and remain shut for almost ten years, he had carelessly exchanged his body for goods and services, he had recklessly thrown himself into any situation that could have ended in his death, but nothing compared to the weight of that moment. A great stone had settled on his chest and was sinking into his stomach. Never had he imagined that he would be so honored as to guide someone through their final moments, or to at least hold their hand through it. That was a task reserved for the most cherished of individuals, but he would have to do for Koujaku. 

He leaned down and layed a kiss to the man’s forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to the spot he had kissed. “If I could take your pain, I would.” He kissed again and pressed back. “I love you.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

The outburst was so unexpected, Noiz sprang to attention, sitting up and staring at Aoba with wide eyes. The boy span in several dizzying circles, tugging handfuls of hair out as he did, muttering incomprehensible nonsense to himself. Madness was taking over. That frenzied psychopath that he had met in the lab was coming back to the surface, Noiz thought. He cringed when Aoba doubled over of a sudden, hands falling to his sides. 

Noiz observed silently, unmoved. What did he care? There was no room to play at plots and strategies after this. He had lost and it was a bitter defeat that had stolen everything from him. The lights dimmed on his dreams and he turned his gaze away from his old Aoba. His interest piqued only when he realized that the convulsions in Koujaku’s body began to weaken. Alarmed, thinking it the end, he slapped his hands to the man’s cheeks and held his face as the last waves of shivers passed. Koujaku’s eyes rolled forward from the back of his head and for the briefest of moments their eyes connected. His eyelids fluttered close a second later. A painful shiver of hope pierced Noiz’ heart. Leaning forward, he grasped the man’s shoulders and shook with all his strength, shouting his name. 

“Get out, Noiz.”

He jerked his head up, startled. The world around him had faded to nothing in his sudden urgency to rouse Koujaku. He had forgotten the very real peril he was still in. Gazing back at him though was not the mad creature of his nightmares, but a face he vaguely recognized. Taking hold of Koujaku’s hand, he stared at Aoba with brows drawn, flummoxed. In the lines of his face the question stood, clear and stark, asking if he were being taunted. Aoba shook his head gently, offering no explanation, then turned in the opposite direction. 

After stumbling a few paces, the sound of running filled the hallway. Noiz cringed, remembering the last time, just a short while before, that he had heard rushing footsteps and the disastrous outcome of that incident. As predicted, a group of five guards appeared, some in uniform, others in full body armor. They crowded Aoba, standing just a step back in fear, but demanding a report and directions regardless. 

Taking a breath, Aoba straightened, pulling on his robes to right them. When he glanced back at Noiz, holding tightly onto Koujaku’s limp body, there was a new light in the boy’s eyes that Noiz thought he recognized.

“Take them out of here. Send them away, out of Midorijima. I don’t ever want to see them again. Not here. They’re not useful to me any longer. I’ve performed my experiments.” At a prolonged pause, he snapped peevishly. “Did you not hear me? I said get them out of here! Get them on the next boat to the mainland and bar them from ever returning!”

“Sir, is it not better to simply terminate—”

“I will destroy what I want, when I want, and I _don’t_ want to destroy them! Do as I say or I’ll destroy _you_!”

The threat had its intended effect. The men rushed over, crowding and pulling at them. Noiz cried out as his arms were grasped in bruising force and he was hauled to his feet; another two men slung Koujaku’s limp body over their shoulders. Screaming and kicking for freedom did nothing but earn him a slap upside the head, but Noiz could not maintain himself. The door leading to the outside world swung open, but he refused to believe that he had been delivered from hell. In the hands of his captors and torturers alike, he could not believe his dream of freedom had been granted. 

Before the door slammed shut behind them, he threw a final glance to Aoba. Another trick! This was the end and they would be carted off to their death! He was certain. The other boy stood solemnly at the mouth of the tunnel, staring blankly at him. The strange gleam was still in his eyes, but Noiz could not place the look. It was a hollow, empty gaze that followed him speaking not of malice or future pain, but of sadness and regret. The door crashed shut just as Aoba raised his hand in what could have been a weak wave. That was the last memory he had of his first true friend.

\--------------------

There was a soft, subtle rap of knuckles on his door. Noiz narrowed his eyes at the computer screen, clenching his teeth at the distraction. His gaze flicked towards the door, unlocked and propped wide open. It was a waste of effort for his brother to lift his hand and knock, but Theo always did; a polite way of letting him know that he was present and seeking attention.

“Just come in and say my name.” Noiz ground out, turning back to his work.

He did not glance up as his brother drifted inside the room, pausing by the bedside a moment before striding to the desk where he sat. As was Theo’s wont, he stood silently, politely waiting for attention to be granted. Or perhaps it was not politeness; since the day he had arrived, standing awkwardly at the front door, bearing the weight of another man, his brother had eyed him in a way that echoed doubt, suspicion, and even contempt. The contempt, he thought, was not actually aimed at him. 

He had spent countless days in his past dreaming of reuniting with his brother. There was meant to be hugs and laughter, cheers of joy and plans made for the future. Instead, silence hung between them more often than not. Words did not come easily to Theo and when they did Noiz often took exception to them. For his part, he had no words for anyone, even his cherished brother. Years of solitude had broken him of a need to fill the void with mindless speech. His family was strangers to him and what had he to say to strangers? Save for his brother, he felt no great urge to rekindle his bond with his family. He felt no need to thank them for their current charity towards him. If anything, they owed him and he was taking his recompense then. 

A gentle clearing of his brother’s throat caused Noiz to throw down his stylus, clattering angrily on the design board he had been slaving over since dawn.

“Yes, Theo. What do you need?”

When he at last looked up, he saw that Theo’s gaze was trained on his monitor, eyeing the graphics he had designed. Knowing well his brother’s opinions, he minimized the screen and asked again what he needed.

“The dentist called.” Theo sighed, turning from the monitor and shaking his head ruefully. “You missed your appointment again.”  
“Did I? I had more important matters to attend to.”

“You need to get your teeth fixed, Will. I know the implant surgery will be unpleasant, but—”

“Do you really think I care about that?” Noiz cut in, grinding said teeth and feeling the lack of molars on the one side. “I could care less about any pain those implants could be; losing those teeth was far more painful than any operation done under heavy anesthesia could ever be.” He paused, taking a deep breath and holding it in his lungs. Puffing it out slowly through his nose, he forced himself to be calm and continued in a slow, even tone. “I’ll call them back tomorrow and reschedule for another day. I’m very busy right now.”

Theo’s brows drew, his mouth puckering slightly as if he had something to say, but was unsure if he ought to speak. Noiz hated that expression. They had never before held back their words. Words had been all they had been able to share in their short time together as children. With his back pressed to the hard, thick wood of his bedroom door, he had spent hours just talking to his brother. Anything that came to his mind rolled off of his tongue without hesitation. Now they could not even hold a conversation.

The fault was his own, Noiz supposed. In the future, perhaps he would put his mind to mending his relationship with his family, or at least with Theo, but at the moment he had more pressing worries. Pushing his design board aside, he shuffled through the box of tools at his desk side and pulled out his much-used soldering gun. 

“What else, Theo?”

Another heavy beat of silence. Noiz eyed his brother sideways as he plugged the tool in, watching as Theo examined the room. Clutter piled in every corner, a desk strewn with blueprints and half-finish products of his creative work, tools tossed on every flat surface; it must have assaulted Theo’s sense of cleanliness. His brother’s eyes drifted towards the newest piece of technology he had crafted, awaiting a few minor tweaks before he could see if this was finally the key he needed to break into a rhyme-like world. 

“Mother is worried about you.” Theo muttered, eyeing the padded headpiece that he was soldering. 

“She has no reason to be.”

“ _I’m_ worried about you.”

Noiz paused, feeling the heat of the soldering gun creep up his arm. _Be flattered_ , he told himself. His brother had taken the time to come into his life, albeit at the most inopportune time, and confess to his worries. What had he gotten from his parents, save a few wary and questioning glances? When his mother had thrown open the door at his arrival and dragged him into her arms, he had thought, had held just a sliver of hope, that she would become the mother he had always dreamed she would be. 

But she became distant. She could not speak when he was near. The happy dreams he had concocted in his cell crumbled and he was left to his own devices. That suited him fine, as he had a job to do, though the distraction did not always make him forget the crushing disappointment he felt whenever his mother glanced at him and then quickly turned her gaze away. 

A bitter smile curved Noiz’ lips. “You have no reason to be worried.” He said, resuming his soldering. “I’m not causing you any trouble.”

An equally bitter sigh escaped Theo’s lips. “It’s not about trouble, Will! It’s about you shutting yourself away in here and depriving yourself of a life!”

“Funny, I would think father and mother would want that. After all, they spent how many years locking me away in my bedroom? Now I’m doing it of my own free will. How well they’ve trained me! I’m such a good son!”

No retort could be made to that. Theo closed his mouth with an audible snap and shook his head. He was not so much defeated as he was at a loss of how to adequately communicate his concerns. Noiz, for his part, had deemed their discussion complete and, with his soldering finished, had moved onto checking the wiring of his new device. There was always some device, some new blueprint laying about, or a ridiculous plot running through his brother’s mind. The scope of his brother’s genius and the veracity at which he pursued his desires was stunning, enthralling, and, given the circumstances, disheartening. 

Turning his back on his brother, Theo faced the two beds that sat in the corner of the room, close to the bay window. The one was hardly slept in, he knew just from observing his brother’s habits; the coverlet was smooth and crisp, obviously unslept on. The other bed was occupied. Walking over, he leaned close to the resting man and examined his features. No movement. No sound. He appeared as dull and lifeless as he had when Noiz arrived at their door, bloody, weak, crying, and demanding assistance. 

All of those projects, Theo knew, were a part of his brother’s tireless efforts to rouse this man. When prodded, Noiz finally admitted to his intimate relationship with the man, but Theo suspected that there was more to the tale than his brother spoke of. Nothing Noiz mentioned could account for the terrible wounds he arrived with or the trauma that had befallen his lover. Those were secrets his brother would hold close to his sleeve and likely never speak of. That was the type of willpower Noiz possessed; he would take countless secrets to his grave. It saddened Theo to think that he was unworthy in his brother’s eyes and would never be able to sooth those hurts. 

He turned again to Noiz. “His diagnosis hasn’t changed at all, Will.”

The veins in Noiz’ hand bulged as he clenched his fist and slammed it against the desktop. “That’s none of your concern, Theo.”

“I spoke to the nurse myself. This is hopeless, Will. You have to know—”

“His eyes were red.” Noiz barked, standing so abruptly his chair toppled over. 

Theo pressed his lips together, faced now with his brother’s rage. “It’s an unpleasant reality, Will, but you have to accept it. That man—your lover is gone. If you insist on keeping him alive, then do so, but you have to accept, for your own sake, that you cannot bring him back.”

“No.” Noiz shook his head violently, striding over and shoving his brother towards the door. “I won’t accept that. I accepted too much before to accept this fate now. His eyes were red, Theo. He came back to me. Now I just have to find him and bring him back again.” 

“You’re talking nonsense, Will.”

“Get out! I’m busy.”

He could continue to argue, Theo knew, but what would be the point? He would be forcibly removed, the door would slam, and, if they were _lucky_ , Noiz would emerge a day or so later. It was not unusual for three days or more to pass before his brother answered the call for food. No word would come from behind the door, only sounds of distressed cursing or frantic shifting of papers and metal pieces. Once, Theo knew he had caught the lilting wails of great distress. 

It was a fool’s errand his brother had set himself upon and he would only be disappointed when he finally accepted that there would be no reuniting the man’s consciousness with his body, but no one could convince Noiz of the truth of it. Noiz would dedicate his heart until the bitter end. 

Dropping his gaze to the floor, Theo sighed and retreated from the room. A moment later, the door slammed behind him. A shiver ran up his spine as he paused and heard the distinct, frightening sound of the lock turning and clicking. 

\----------------

The wood was firm and cold against Noiz’ back as he leaned against the door, shutting out the rest of the house, the rest of the world. Never would he have dreamt that he would crave the solitude a locked door could bring, not after his vow to himself to never lock his door, yet there he was. It was not the same room that had held him prisoner as child, but it was similar. Now he held the power though. Now he chose when the world could come in and when they had to leave. It did not matter that more often than not the door was closed; it was at his behest now and no one else’s. 

Theo’s words continued to echo in his mind, rattling unhappily in his brain and battering the hopeful thoughts that he forced himself to maintain. Darker, malignant thoughts began whispering, encouraged by his brother’s words, but he forced them back. He would not give up yet. It was not time to surrender. It was not time to abandon Koujaku. The power of Scrap was formidable, but it was not unbeatable.

He had spent years learning about rhyme, how to manipulate it, how to carve and craft it to his own needs, how to drag people into it and force others out. It was not overly difficult to create his own rhyme space, a private, peaceful plain that connected the physical and mental world. It had been tedious and time consuming, but not difficult, which was encouraging. With the skills to create such a world, surely he had the skills to delve into Koujaku’s mind and pull him out of the abyss. 

Lifting the completed headpiece to examine it a final time, he thought that this time, perhaps, he had found the right coding to get him where he needed to be. There was only one way to find out.

He reached out and stroked the top of Koujaku’s head. The hair was soft and silky to the touch. It made him smile. Perhaps it would not be up to Koujaku’s typical standards, but it was well brushed and maintained. When the nurse completed her nightly rounds, noting his health and changing any soiled bedsheets and briefs—Noiz decided to save the man some dignity and have the nurse perform that task rather than do it himself—he went and fetched the shampoo. With a steaming basin of water, he would crawl onto the side of the man’s bed and carefully, painstakingly, lovingly wash his hair. Sometimes, he would braid the length; he had learned so that when Koujaku woke he could show how skillful he had gotten at hair upkeep. Most times he simply towel dried and brushed it. The nurse always complimented Koujaku on how healthy his hair was. Another fawning fan. 

“Just like the old days.” Noiz mused aloud, turning towards the machines.

The monitor lines that tracked Koujaku’s heart and brain functions very rarely deviated from their steady rhythm, but Noiz always checked before he attempted a test. If there was an abnormality, it could be a sign. It could mean that an opportunity was presenting itself. 

Opportunity was never making itself known, however. Reviewing the last week of scans revealed no changes or abnormalities. Everything was steady and predictable, as it had been for over a month. On the one hand, it was good news. The condition was not worsening; there were no malign effects from Aoba’s last Scrap attack. On the other hand, it was not encouraging either. How deep had Aoba gone into Koujaku’s mind? How far had he dug and burned and ruined? From his own experience, he knew how dangerous Aoba could be and how deadly Scrap was, when used effectively. And, if Mizuki’s case was any indication, sometimes it was too strong to overcome. 

“You’re stronger.” He whispered, leaning forward to brush the lengthy bangs from the man’s face. “Your will is stronger than Aoba could ever wish to be. He knew that too.” He smiled weakly, running the same hand through his own short tail of hair. “I saved it just for you. Only you can cut it. Like you always wanted.”

Pressing his palm to Koujaku’s face, he waited, hoping for some twitch of muscle or reflexive flinch. As expected, there was no reaction. He frowned as he pulled his hand away and took up his newest creation. 

“Alright, let’s see how this works.” 

He carefully placed the circular headpiece around the man’s head, adjusting it as needed so nothing scrapped or poked. Content with that, he secured his own headpiece and prepared the programs. He turned back to Koujaku and touched the man’s face again, twirling a lock of the silky black hair on his finger. A minute later—a minute too long for Noiz—the monitors began lighting up, screens of code scrolling past.

The light on his headpiece blinked; they were ready. Noiz swallowed, stomach knotting in apprehension. Before he pressed the final switch, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Koujaku’s. 

“I’ll find you.” He spoke loudly and clearly, praying that his words were heard. “I’ll find you and bring you home. I promise.” He paused, then added awkwardly. “I love you.”

His mind flooded with all of the stories that he had told and the awkward, hopeful promises he had made to a man who he had not even been sure could understand him. Koujaku had listened. Koujaku had understood. Koujaku had craved a happy ending as badly as he had. He thought again of the promises of home and happiness that he had fully intended on keeping and _would_ keep. They _were_ home. Now he just had to pull Koujaku out of the blackness and back to his side. 

“Look for me.” He flipped the switch, shutting his eyes and drifting into the field he had created. “Just follow my voice. I’ll find you.”


End file.
